They All Lived Story 42: The Alchemist War
by LadyWordsmith
Summary: Amestris has been invaded, and the enemy dares to use alchemy against them, and blames State Alchemists as part of the cause. Will everything the Elrics, Mustang,, and their colleagues have worked to create all their lives be destroyed?
1. Chapter 1

**March 2****nd****, 1963**

Alphonse was not having a good morning. Neither the mirror nor the closet was his friend as he pulled on his only clean pair of uniform pants. With the everyday ones all in the wash, he had figured on just wearing his dress pants for the day. They looked about the same after all.  
There was just one little problem – him. There was just no getting around the fact that dress pants were more fitted in style, and right now they didn't _fit._

"Al, are you all right?" Elicia appeared in the bathroom doorway, already dressed for the day in simple slacks and one of her soft turtleneck sweaters. "I heard grunting."  
_  
Oh great. _Why did the dress pants have to be more fitted anyway? It wasn't fair. Al gave up. "Look at this."

Elicia eyed him. "I'm looking. What's wrong?"

Was she serious? "What's… they don't fit."

A look of utterly fake shock came over his wife's face. "You're right! I've never noticed!" As he watched, confused, she circled him rather like a curious cat, then came back around in front of him, bent down and gave his stomach a playful little poke with one finger. "Well it's you all right."

"Elicia!"

She smiled up at him. "Calm down." Then she reached out, just as she might have when the kids were little, and tugged at the waistline of his pants herself. She looked unsurprised when they fell a little short of closing. She giggled! "When was the last time you wore these?"

Al sighed and fidgeted. "Four years ago," he replied awkwardly. It had been the dinner they had attended in Drachma that required full formal dress. He hadn't needed them since then.

"Well then of course they don't fit, Al." Elicia stood up straight, shaking her head. "Why don't you wear a different pair?"

"They're in the wash," Al responded glumly. "And what do you mean _of course_?" She was taking this far too lightly. "I've been good lately." Trying anyway.

Elicia shook her head. "Honey, this is the weight you put _on_ four years ago."

This conversation was not going well. "How about a little sympathy here?"

"Hey, _who's_ the one who carried both of our kids?" Elicia chuckled. "Have you ever looked at the variety of sizes in my side of the closet?"

"No," Al had to admit. Elicia always looked good to him. "This is embarrassing."

Elicia wrapped her arms around his waist. "Don't worry about it. Most men your age have a little… extra to cuddle with."

_Humph._ She put it to so nicely. "Ed doesn't."

Elicia laughed, and Al felt even more foolish. "Edward's an exception to just about every rule. Brothers or not, don't go comparing yourself to him."

"Well then tell him to stop teasing me about it," Al smirked.

"I think you're old enough to do that yourself," she winked.

"Are you trying to make me feel old _and _fat?" He wasn't sure why she found the entire situation so amusing, but it was bugging him this morning.

Elicia's expression softened a little as she hugged him. "Lighten up a little, okay?"

"That's what I'm talking about." He wasn't too fond of her choice of words.

"You know what I mean," she poked him again, in the side this time. "It's hardly irreparable damage. I've known you forever, and you know what to do. You don't need me to tell you, unless you just want to be able to say your wife nagged you into dieting." She kissed his cheek. "If it's bothering you, then just do something about it."

He sighed. "You're right."

"Then why so glum?" She asked as they walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.

"No matter what I do, they won't fit next week," Al pointed out. Maybe if he sucked in and stopped breathing, but that would completely defeat the purpose.

A light of realization appeared in his wife's eyes. "Oh, this is about the inspection!"

"Partly." Al sat down on the bed. Elicia sat down and snuggled up against his side, tucking her feet underneath her. "It's just frustrating."

"Regretting priorities?" She asked the question with a knowing look.

Al shrugged. "Annoyed that Ed's right." Not that he hadn't known that from the start. Elicia chuckled again. "You two never do grow up do you?"

"What do you mean?" He looked over at her.

Elicia smiled knowingly. "I mean you're always like this; always riding the other about something. Quarreling, sparring, tossing words back and forth."

"We're brothers."

"You're a lot alike."

"How do you figure?"

"Have you forgotten?" Elicia moved around behind him and opened his bedside table drawer, pulling out a very small, very old and beat up, journal. "You did show me this, remember?"

Al looked at the journal. It was the one he had kept while he was a suit of armor. "Yeah I do. What about it?"

Elicia smiled kindly. "There's a lot of history in there. Almost every disagreement with Ed, your frustrations with being armor… a complete list of everything you wanted to eat when you got your body back."

"What of it?" He still didn't like where the conversation was going, even though it intrigued him to see Elicia as playful as she had been when they first got married.

"Al, if anyone actually managed to eat everything on that list, most of them would be twice your size. You like to eat as much as Ed does; or any other guy," she added. "Mom still jokes that Dad married her for her cooking."

"Is there a point to this little trip?"

"You're being impatient," Elicia scolded gently. "My point is you're making a big deal out of something I know isn't a surprise. These things don't just happen overnight and it's not the end of the world. Just do something about it or stop stressing."

"I take it you'd rather I do the former." Al knew the answer to that. No woman he knew really wanted their husband to not care about his health. In fact, he knew several who complained that their husbands didn't care _enough_ about it.

Elicia hugged him again, this time from behind him on the bed. "Well, while I certainly didn't marry you for your good looks-"

"Hey!"

She giggled again. "_By themselves_," she finished the statement. "I love you however you are."

"How do I know?" Al asked, though he was teasing her a little back this time. She was trying to cheer him up.

"Because," she gave him a slight squeeze. "If I didn't we wouldn't spend nearly as much time having sex."

She had a point! "That or your taste has gone downhill," he teased back.

Elicia's hands around his middle twitched, and the next thing he knew she was tickling him! Al retaliated, and they spent several minutes tussling on the bed in a full out tickle war that only ended with a pillow to the face and Elicia lying on top of him on the bed, panting and grinning broadly. "Not downhill," she smirked, "just over it." Before he could give offense, she kissed him, and her hands ran across his arms and down his chest. "You're still a great looking guy," she said when she finished the kiss. "You're one of those handsome older guys girls start swooning over at the age of thirteen and never stop."

"Well, at least one girl anyway," Al grunted, though her comment pleased him. "The one that matters."

"You know it," Elicia nodded. "I'm a lucky girl. I get to look into those handsome golden eyes, and run my hands through your hair, and enjoy the feel of your muscular arms around me. Don't sell yourself short, Alphonse. A little extra padding in the middle doesn't ruin the entire package."

"You put it too kindly," Al smiled up at her. Surprisingly, he did feel better. "No combat instructor should have a gut."

Elicia smacked his pectoral muscles lightly with her hand. "Men always pick the crude, unflattering description." She shook her head. "Though I guess you've made your point. You've convinced me."

"Convinced you of what?" Al asked, confused.

"That I'm simply going to have to nag you into your old ways," Elicia giggled as she lay down across him, giving him another hug. "For the sake of your career, of course."

"Of course," Al couldn't help chuckling. "So I guess that settles things for me, huh?"

"Yep," Elicia nodded firmly.

"There's just one problem," Al added after a moment.

"And what's that?"

He snickered. "I still don't have anything to wear to work."

* * *

"Hey, Shock, do you know you're soaking wet?" One of the other alchemists in the office snickered as Tore made his way through the room and stopped in front of Colonel Sara Heimler's desk.

"Shock Alchemist, Tore Closson, reporting in." He saluted, though only because he was on duty. He was still getting used to saluting someone he had known informally for years, but that was the price of having passed his State Alchemists Exam just last month. He rather liked the title President Rehnquist had gifted him with – Shock – for his control over electricity and his rather dazzling display to that effect.

Sara looked up from her paperwork and grinned. "Nice look. I take it you were successful?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tore nodded. "Though the next time you need someone to get a cat out of a tree, send the fire department."

The Twilight Alchemist chuckled. "I don't think they could have handled that particular cat, Closson. You have such a way with felines; I figured you were perfect for the mission."

Well her point was valid. The cat in question had not been a house cat, but a rare white lion that had escaped from his pen in the Central Zoo. Police had requested assistance from a State Alchemist to hopefully capture the large animal unharmed and return him to the zoo. Tore had managed just that, though he had gotten dumped into a city fountain for his troubles during the chase. "No argument there," he sighed, then shrugged and grinned. "He's back at the zoo and I reinforced his exhibit and made it a little more difficult for him to get out in the future too." Reshaping things using alchemy had been the quickest, easiest, and cheapest way to resolve the problem.

"The Zoo sends their regards."

Sara rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Well it's better than nothing. Find a spare uniform, dry off, and then you can write up your report. Nice work."

It was a simple dismissal, but a polite one. Tore was getting used to things around here. Sara, like most of the people here whom he had known for years thanks to growing up in the Elrics' house, was much more businesslike on duty. Here he was a colleague now, another State Alchemist with work to do, not just a kid, or Edward Elric's student. He _was_, however, the second State Alchemist ever to pass the full exam _under_ the age of eighteen, even if it was only by a couple of months instead of Edward's impressive several years. So he got a decent amount of notice, most of it good.

Tore made his way out of the room and back down the hallways of Central Headquarters. His spare uniform was in his locker down by the gymnasium, so he might as well go and get it now. While he didn't much care if he was in uniform or civilian dress; he wore the uniform at work. He spent most of his time at Headquarters or running local missions so far, though he knew that he would probably get sent out of town soon. Sara and Brigadier General Kane both seemed pleased with his work. That meant they would trust him with assignments that went further afield.

For now, he was just enjoying the feel of the weight of the watch in his pocket, the curious glances from people wanting to know more about the new, young, State Alchemist and – best of all – the looks from all the pretty secretaries and young female soldiers or officers wandering the halls!

* * *

"Well don't you seem to be in a good mood," Ren chuckled from behind him.

Ethan turned around from where he was pulling files for today's patients and stopping humming. He grinned. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"Well of course not," Ren shook her head. She was standing in the doorway to the reception area of their little clinic. "I was just wondering if maybe you had some good news you wanted to share?"

Ethan shook his head. "Good news?" He knew what Ren was angling at. "Well my cup of coffee this morning was surprisingly fresh tasting. I got out of bed on time this morning and had a leisurely walk to work. Oh, and for once the dog didn't drool in my shoes. How's that?"

Ren crossed her hands under her chest, which only proved to accentuate the slight swell below her arms that was the ever-tell-tale sign of pregnancy. She and Will were three months into expecting their second child, and – as was not uncommon with subsequent pregnancies, coupled with Will's towering stature, at least compared to Ren's petite build – meant she could hardly have hidden it if she wanted to even at that early state. "You know what I mean, Ethan Elric. Now don't mess with me this morning."

Ethan shook his head, but smiled again. "I'm serious. It's just a nice day." Finding out if his wife was in the same situation would have been a delightful way to start the day, but all this morning had actually proven was the opposite. Fortunately they could always try again next month. "If we had news, you know you would be the first to know."

"Even before your parents?" Ren looked skeptical.

"I guess it depends on timing. If I were here, you'd know by the stunned expression on my face," Ethan chuckled self-depreciatingly. "So, are you going to get to work today or do I need to prescribe rest for you and send you home while I manage everything here entirely on my own?"

Ren snickered. "Sarcasm will get you nowhere." Still, she stepped into the room and starting pulling her own patient files. "Though if you can find the pillow for the chair in the back office and find a way to import redberry-leaf tea overnight from Xing I may forgive you for it."

Ethan tapped her lightly on the head with his stack of files as he moved past her. The pillow was easy. The tea – which he had learned was safe for easing the queasy stomachs of pregnant women just as well as small children – was a more difficult challenge. "Far be it for me to argue with such a reasonable request." Yes, today was going to be a good day, he was sure of it.

* * *

"Man, can you believe this inspection?" Breda asked Edward as the Fullmetal Alchemist sat down across from him at the lunch table in the Mess.

"Oh it won't be that bad," Ed grinned, setting his lunch tray down. "It's not like it's not within Rehnquist's rights to order it anyway. It hasn't been done in a long time." President Rehnquist had called for a full inspection of Amestris' military, to begin next week with no further warning. Which units would be inspected when had not been mentioned. That meant that everything had better be absolutely perfect for the entire week; artillery and weapons, offices, paperwork, training, uniforms, and the soldiers and officers themselves.

Breda grunted and picked up his sandwich. "That's because it's a hassle for everyone and a lot of work."

"Worried about failing?" Roy Mustang snickered as he dropped down next to Ed with his own lunch.

"No," Breda snorted.

"You're obviously not," Ed commented, eyeing Roy's plate. "Did you grab anything off the line that _wasn't_ fried?"

"You mean there was food that wasn't?" Roy laughed. "_I_ don't have to worry about this inspection. It's called retirement. Ever heard of it?"

Of course Ed had. Roy had been the one who tried to force it on him over twenty years ago. Then Ed had been on the other side of things a few years later, when Roy had to make that decision for himself. "Yeah, I think I may vaguely recall something about that," Ed gave him a pondering look. "Oh yeah, that's for old people right?"

At the look on Roy's face, Breda almost sprayed sandwich across the table he started laughing so hard.

"Did I miss something?" Alphonse asked as he sat down across from Roy, next to Breda.

"Ah, and here's my brother, the good little rabbit," Ed grinned as his brother sat down with a tray that held a large salad, and a side of apples and cottage cheese.

"They have cottage cheese now?" Roy looked surprised. "What is this, a health spa?"

Al seemed to ignore both sets of comments. "It looked good," was his comment as he started eating.

Ed decided not to press the issue. Antagonizing his brother was the last thing he really wanted to do now that they were entirely back on good terms. Ed went back to eating, but he had only gotten a few bites in between general chatter before a Lieutenant Colonel appeared at the end of their table, panting and looked directly at Breda and Al.

"General Breda, General Elric; President Rehnquist requests your presence in his Conference room, now." The Lieutenant Colonel looked up then and noticed Edward. "You too, Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir."

"What's this about?" Al asked as they stood, leaving their trays where they were.

"A matter of State Security," the Lieutenant Colonel replied.

"What about me?" Roy looked mildly offended.

Ed turned and gave him a jaunty wave and a grin as he left the Mess. "That's one of the perks of active duty!"

His smile faded as they hurried upstairs however. The Lieutenant Colonel was not the only one looking concerned. They passed other folks in the hall, including Hal Brewster and Marcus Kane. All Generals, all heading towards the President's meeting room. This could not bode well.

"What do you think is going on?" Al asked softly.

"I don't know," Breda frowned. "But I doubt it's good or about this Inspection coming up. He wouldn't need all the Brass for that. He'd send a memo."

Ed nodded. "Well we'll find out soon enough."

Indeed, all of the top brass were gathering in the meeting room when they arrived. Alan Rehnquist stood at the head of the table, looking dour. Generals lined the room. At this point in life, Edward knew every one of them personally; himself, Al, Breda, Hal Brewster, and Marcus Kane were those he knew best. Other than that, the newer Generals assigned to Central HQ, all lower ranking – Rask, Tamlin, and Lyre – seemed even more ill at ease. There were still several Generals not in attendance of course, those assigned to the four other Headquarters, but that meant only that they could not have arrived in time. Otherwise, Ed was sure they would have been here judging by Rehnquist's face.

It was a little frightening to realize that nearly every other General older than Breda had retired. Brahm and Morroh were long gone now; retired since the Aerugo War. Olivia Armstrong was, amazingly, still ruling Briggs despite her age. No one seemed to want to mess with her while she could do her job perfectly well. Alex Armstrong and Roy Mustang's absences were keenly felt though, given how many times Ed had seen them in here over the years.

"Gentlemen," Rehnquist began as soon as they were all seated, "We have a problem." He picked up a sheet of paper and passed it around. "_That_ is a copy of the wire I received no more than an hour ago, confirmed, informing me that as of this morning, Fort Briggs was overrun and taken by Drachman forces."  
_  
"What the hell?"_ Ed couldn't help blurting it out. This was ludicrous! There was no way that Briggs, of all places, could have fallen so quickly that they didn't have days of warning. Even more than that; how had an entire Drachman force made a move like that without notice? Amestris _had_ intelligence agents and diplomats in Drachma!

"My thought exactly," Rehnquist nodded over the collective gasps of the other men in the room. He definitely did not look like he was joking. "That report, already followed by several more from soldiers who managed to retreat, or locals who witnessed the event from a distance, has been confirmed as true by our best intelligence. This morning at oh-eight-hundred-hours, communications at Briggs was cut, and the Fort was stormed, the wall breached, and General Olivia Armstrong summarily executed as soon as she was found, along with the rest of her command staff as best we can tell."

As the report, followed by others, made its way around the table, the general disbelief in the room turned to horror. Disbelief turned quickly to focused fury.

"But how did they manage all this?" Breda shook his head. "Blowing holes in the Briggs wall? That thing is several feet thick and solid concrete and stone. And it'll take more than a lucky bullet to get anywhere near Olivia."

If Ed had thought Rehnquist's expression could not get any direr, he would have been wrong. "The Drachmans took Fort Briggs in less than three hours, Gentlemen. And they did it using what the newest report claims was a military unit of no less than _three hundred alchemists_."

He was hallucinating. He had to be. There was no way Ed had heard that right! "Alchemists, Sir? Drachma's state doesn't _have_ alchemists. Last we heard they couldn't even agree whether to antagonize them or court them!" It had only been four years! "How would they train up that many alchemists in so short a time without our knowing about it?"

"Obviously they have managed somehow, Fullmetal," Rehnquist replied flatly. "As for how, we will have to determine that. I sincerely doubt it's really three hundred alchemists. More likely three hundred soldiers with alchemical backing. Frankly, I was hoping you might have some insight." Even Amestris did not have three hundred alchemists. Ed was fairly certain the current count numbered less than a hundred.

All eyes turned to him. Racking his brain, Ed tried to think of any reasonable means of training up that many alchemists in so short a time. "It might have been a secret project," he suggested first, "something they never told us about; something not going on in the Capitol. Maybe not even something Akhatova knew about. It's not like everyone in a government lets their superiors know what's going on." He let his eyes and tone convey what he meant.

Rehnquist and anyone old enough to remember Bradley at all obviously understood. He nodded. "Especially in Drachma," he shifted it away from thoughts of Roy Mustang's own plot within the divisive government back then that had caused the shift in regime to what they had now. At least that had proven a good thing and lasted. Drachma was never so stable. "Well it's a theory at least. However they did it our intelligence operatives in the area, those who have reported in anyway, will be trying to determine more exact numbers and intent. At this time we have received very little further information from those who apparently managed to escape Briggs." He sighed and shook his head. Ed felt a little sorry for him. Obviously Rehnquist had hoped that he might get to be the first President of the Military to not have to deal with a major conflict. No such luck. "The Assembly and myself will be calling meetings as information comes in. The fact that Briggs was attacked and overrun in such a short amount of time is hardly classified information, but let's not go inciting panic. We will first begin preparations to evacuate any civilians within that immediate vicinity even as we organize soldiers to mount a counter-offensive."

"Do we have any idea if this was a move to merely take the border, or a precursor to invasion?" General Rask asked, a scowl set deep in his dark face.

"The walls of Briggs are in rubble and you feel the need to ask that?" General Tamlin's response was outraged.

"I think," Breda cut in, "That no one in their right mind would attack Briggs, murder Olivia Armstrong outright, and do it with that much of a show of force unless they were prepared to back it up with a full scale invasion."

His declaration cut through the argument like it wasn't even there. No one else apparently wanted to argue with the great tactician. Ed agreed with the assessment whole-heartedly. "Not with alchemists of all things," he added.

"We'll know more when the Northern Headquarters boys get there," Kane commented, speaking up for the first time. "Have we heard anything at all on motivation?"

"Do they need more?" Rask asked. "They've complained about our policies and agreements for years."

"I expect we'll hear something soon," Rehnquist replied. "But no, we've had no official statement from the Drachman government yet. Nor have we heard anything at all from our operatives within Drachma itself. I suspect some of our intelligence in Petrayevka itself has been compromised."

"What about Groves?" Al asked.

Rehnquist's eyes took on sincere concerned. "I've heard nothing from Ambassador Groves either. I expect we probably won't for some time unless they plan to use his presence there and continued good health as a bargaining tool."

"Not that it'll do them much good," Breda snorted. "They have to know we won't just sit by and take this."

Ed scowled. "They're probably counting on us to attack," he realized after a moment, speaking even as the idea came to him. "With alchemists? It'd be like walking into a slaughter. The only way to combat them is…." He looked up at Rehnquist, a feeling of horror creeping through his bones.

Rehnquist nodded grimly. "You see the dilemma, and hopefully the necessity. Nothing will be decided this afternoon unless we hear something more definitive. The Northern Command is responding in all haste. We expect to send Central troops to assist them as needed within the week." He looked around the room. "Rask, Lyre; prepare your men." Then he looked at Marcus. "Kane, we need alchemists fit for combat; every one you've got. I don't know when we'll be sending them, but have them ready."

Kane nodded. "Yes, Sir."

"Excuse me," Al spoke up again. "What do you want us for?" His expressive glance included Ed in the statement. "The students just starting the program are hardly ready to be pressed into that kind of service."

"Well of course they aren't," Rehnquist agreed. "However, you two were on the last major diplomatic mission we had with Drachma, and concerning alchemists in particular. I want your input, and very likely your alchemy skills."

"You want us to fight." Ed understood immediately. He may not be an active command position anymore, but he was still technically a General, and he was still the Fullmetal Alchemist. He _was_ the leading alchemical combat expert in Amestris. He had also trained nearly every one of them in how to fight personally. If he hadn't, Al had.

"It looks like it will probably come down it," Rehnquist nodded, looking like he wished he could be saying almost anything else in that moment. "I never wanted to see the day Amestris used alchemists in true offense again, but the time it seems has likely come."

"Not offensive, Mr. President," Al objected. "Defending Amestris is not an offensive position."

"It may not be," Breda grunted, "But we'll make it one."

"That's why I want you in charge of overseeing things directly, General Breda," Rehnquist looked down the length of the table at him. "All of you should expect to report to a full meeting of the Assembly tomorrow morning first thing, if you don't hear anything before then." He sighed heavily. "We need to move quickly and decisively before they can get seated at Briggs. If they dig themselves in we may never get them out. Dismissed gentlemen."

* * *

Elicia was worried when she saw the deep scowl on Alphonse's face as he came through the door that evening. Not that it surprised her. There had been buzzing news on the radio all day about a reported attack on Fort Briggs. Reports, mostly from a distance, put the Fort in flames, with dark billowing smoke, loud explosions, and chaos. "Alphonse, is this true what they're saying?" She asked as he took off his coat.

"It's true," Al replied softly. "Drachma's invading."

Elicia froze, her heart pounding more forcefully as those words sunk into her brain. Drachma, that cold, dangerous, frightening hell that she had forced from her dreams, spent years trying to forget, was now encroaching on the safety of her family, her friends; her country. She began to shake. "This, this can't be. It can't!"  
Al turned around so quickly she barely registered it before his arms were tightly around her. "It'll be all right, Elicia," he replied, perhaps too forcefully. "We won't let them get any further. There are already soldiers going to meet them at Briggs and push them back. They won't come any closer. I promise, it will be all right." He was shaking too, she noticed, but with fury.

Elicia sniffed back tears and allowed herself to be comforted by his strong presence. He needed her comfort too. "I believe you, Alphonse. If you say it will be, it will be."


	2. Chapter 2

**March 3****rd****, 1963**

Edward did not sleep well. After the dinner discussion of the Drachman attack on Briggs, Lia and Ethan had turned in early; both having long work days coming in the morning. Not wanting to disturb them, Ed had gone upstairs himself, taken a long hot shower, and found Winry waiting for him in bed. It was a blessing that Ed knew he could find comfort in his wife. They had snuggled, talked, and loved until normally he would have been well contented and able to sleep.

Not that night. His head was too full. Well into the wee hours of the morning Ed lay in bed on his back, arms behind his head, staring up in the darkness as a small dimple in the ceiling plaster that always seemed to catch the moonlight.

War. No matter where he went, no matter how long he was there or how long it took; war seemed to creep in everywhere like pestilence. Even if this, like many of the previous, turned out to be a short, brutal little war that ended with Drachma being shoved back over the border – it seemed reasonably likely still, if he thought it out – it was still an unpleasant proposition. War meant more people died; more families were torn apart. It meant that if Rehnquist really did put all of the State Alchemists into action, Ed might be forced to break his promise to Winry. He wasn't sure he could live with that.

Somewhere before dawn Ed finally passed out, but he knew it wasn't long enough before Winry stirred beside him and got up, heading for the bathroom. It was a new day, and the world would continue to move on as always, no matter what lay on the horizon.

Ed dragged himself out of bed and into clothes. Given orders, he made himself get in uniform. It looked better when the Assemblymen started getting snippy about State Alchemists having privileges outside of regular soldiers. Untrue, really, but it was easier just not to antagonize them. _You know, there was a time when I would have worn my street clothes on purpose to piss them off. _

At the breakfast table, Ethan was munching his way through a bowl of hot cereal. He offered Ed a reassuring smile, even if it was smaller than usual. "It'll be all right, Dad. No one's had the guts to try and invade us in years. Drachma thinks they can do it now? The Northern guys will flatten them."

"I hope so," Ed offered a smile in return as he ladled some hot cereal out of the kitchen pot and added cream and sugar. Two bowls of cereal and a kiss on Winry's cheek later it was time to be off to work.

The Assembly meeting _started _with news that sent Ed's theory of a short little war crashing down around his ears.

Alan Rehnquist looked even grimmer than he had the day before. "This morning we received two documents I am about to share with you. The first is this," he held up what appeared to be a letter. From the distance at which he sat in the Assembly hall, Ed couldn't tell exactly what it said. "Wired in, it's from the Drachman government."

From the moment Rehnquist began to read the message aloud, Ed felt his blood flow hot and cold at the same time. He could never remember the exact wording afterwards except for specific lines. Beyond that, it was general concepts; Amestris for years supposedly trying to suppress Drachma in culture and economy; reported unfair trade agreements and under the table dealings. It was the last that froze him where he sat. "The final indication of your disregard for our attempts to improve our country was directly instigating our own populace against us to meet your blatant agendas. The actions taken by members of your military were utterly inappropriate and without government sanction; destroying a laboratory facility dedicated to research toward improving the Drachman economy."

The wording was not blatant, but Ed could think of only one incident that met that description. He certainly would have heard of moves by any Amestrian intelligence in that kind of event. Even as his mouth dried up, Ed could feel eyes on him; on Al too he'd bet. Rehnquist was looking his direction with a knowing resignation. _Damn it!_ Ed knew better than to say anything, despite the muttering and eyes in the room. He frowned, but kept his mouth shut.

Rehnquist finished reading the letter quickly. It was for these insults that Drachma had chosen to return the favor, take back what it felt was rightful Drachma's, with a stated goal of destroying and humiliating Amestris' government and taking control of the country. That was rather straight-forward and had plenty of people growling in outrage!

Rehnquist went on, picking up another sheet of paper. "Also wired in this morning from our intelligence in Petrayevka… a news article in their national newspaper; or at least, a translation," he smirked humorlessly. "It's rather lengthy, so I will summarize. It also blames Amestris for Drachma's economic difficulties over the past decades. It declares that yesterday's decisive _Victory_ over Fort Briggs and the death of General Olivia Armstrong is only the first step in Drachma's plan to seize all of the wealth available to them in Amestris. They seem to take delight in detailing the events of our last major diplomatic mission; calling the research of the alchemist who kidnapped three officer's wives a _hero_ of Drachma dedicated to trying to preserve its dignity and way of life by finding ways to improve the Drachman economy."

"Tamirov was a monster!" The room went silent as Alphonse's words rose above the rest. Ed's head spun around with the others, to find Al, standing, hands planted firmly on the table in front of him. Al's face was so enraged he was turning purple. "Where do they get off with this bullshit?"

Rehnquist did not look surprised at Al's reaction, only apologetic. "They make this claim because he is the highest ranking officer in their new _crack units of Drachman Alchemists. _The article refers to him as General Tamirov who _heroically_ approached then-not-yet Chairman Radikov with a petition for truce and cooperation between the alchemists of Drachma and its government to return Drachma to its former glory. Apparently this was one of Radikov's propositions when they made him Chairman."

"They ousted Akhatova for being _radical_ and then pull this?" Edward couldn't help but blurt out his own angry words at that. _Tamirov_ was a General in charge of Drachman alchemists! It was too absurd to be true, and yet it was.

Breda spoke up before anyone else. "So this is it then. They've admitted straight up that they're invading. Briggs is the first step. That means they'll be pushing south to North City and making a press for Central eventually, given the opportunity. There's no way they don't have far more men up around Briggs than they needed to take it if that's the case. We won't have much time, President Rehnquist, and I don't believe the soldiers garrisoned in North City will be enough to take on whatever's waiting at Briggs."

Once again, the room quieted as the General – and former President himself – spoke. Breda had cut to the heart of the matter, and likely forestalled hours of pointless debate. "General Breda has been placed in charge of all information and actions in regards to this new threat," Rehnquist announced to the room. Apparently this was news to some of the Assemblymen, who blinked or muttered, but no one contracted the statement or tried to argue. "What are your recommendations, Breda?"

He yielded the floor as Breda got up and came to the front of the room. "My staff and I have been considering the possibilities since yesterday," he began as Rehnquist stepped aside for him. "Our best hope is to plan a major defensive maneuver with the assumption that it will be set out of North City as our primary point in our line. The Drachmans have to take it to control the Northern quadrant of the country, and we aren't likely to be able to stop them from marching down that far with the few troops currently available. Combat ready units will be deployed immediately from Central Headquarters within the week, with full contingents from Central, Western, and Eastern within two. Southern Headquarters will send troops only after we determine what more may be needed to stop the Drachman threat and shove them back over the border where they belong."

Hands went up all over the room, signals of a flurry of questions that Breda answered as best he could. Fortunately after all his time dealing with the office of President, he handled the barrage from mostly-familiar faces without looking even remotely bothered.

"What about the alchemists?"

That question gave Breda momentary pause, but only, Ed suspected, because he was choosing his words carefully. "Drachma brought alchemists to this fight first. Amestris has the strongest and most well trained collection of alchemists, and thus alchemically trained soldiers, possibly ever known. What good is drilling alchemists in combat skills for years if they aren't asked to use them when the appropriate time comes?" He forestalled angry rumblings with one hand outstretched. "We proved against Drachma before we could use alchemists and not be monsters. We proved it during the Xing War, we proved it in Aerugo. This time, we're being invaded, and the enemy has us outnumbered by humans trained to be weapons, clearly, and possibly in over-all troops. The State Alchemists are our best hope, and a necessity. This will only be another Ishbal if we let _them_ walk in here and mow us down."

Two rows over, Marcus Kane was nodding grimly. This was it, Ed realized, this was more than just two armies facing off. More than the safety of a country. Of course, that was what mattered most, but Drachma had called into question the honor and integrity of the people, and the program, on which so much of Amestris' stability now rested. The letter blamed Amestris' alchemists for Drachma's recent problems, and their attack was a blatant challenge to their abilities as well as their honor. This was about a way of life.

"How many State Alchemists will you need, General?" Kane asked.

"Every combat-qualified and fit alchemist we have," Breda replied immediately. "We have to squash this immediately, or we're facing what will likely be the longest war we've fought in over two generations. We cannot lose, ladies and gentlemen. If we do, than we lose more than a fight; we lose everything."

The Assembly meeting went on for only another half an hour; short, Ed thought, considering. He was grateful when the members of the military were given leave to go while they moved on to other matters that, while less pressing, were still on the day's agenda. This was war; it was now up to the military to make it happen and make it end.

* * *

The rest of the day was immediately filled with more meetings. Edward was utterly unsurprised when Rehnquist called a military meeting to be held within the hour. Kane sent a message down that a State Alchemist's meeting would follow immediately after the Generals' meeting ended.  
The Generals' meeting contained two people Edward had _not_ been expecting to see, but was more than happy to see them in the current circumstance! "Never thought I'd see you in here again," he chuckled as he shook hands with the Strong Arm Alchemist; General Alex Armstrong, and then smirked over at Roy, who looked less smug than Ed was expecting.

"I could hardly sit idly by and not come to the defense of our country," Armstrong replied, and there was a stricken look on his face. Ed remembered why with a twinge of guilt that it hadn't even occurred to him; Olivia _was_ – or at least, had been – Alex Armstrong's older sister. "The Drachmans will learn the foolishness of their actions and come to regret them!"

"I'm sure they will." Ed did not doubt that Armstrong was eager to bring the men who had killed his kin to justice. "What about you?"

"What can I say," Roy smirked. "They missed my company."

"I told him if he didn't show up I'd tell Riza where he hides his favorite bottle of Aerugean rum," Breda snickered as he joined them, looking tired but alert. "There's no such thing as retired if you'll be too dead to enjoy it."

"Precisely," Roy nodded.

Within a few minutes everyone settled down in the same seats they had been in the day before, Rehnquist standing at the head of the table. The map of Amestris behind him loomed high above their heads, and Ed found his eyes drawn to the large Drachman splotch along their North and Western border. He wasn't the only one either, he noticed. It seemed ominous.

"You know why you're here," Rehnquist sighed, though his eyes were on Roy. "Our job is to stop this invasion cold and send Drachma running with their tails between their legs as fast as we can manage. How long do you think it will take?" He looked to Breda.

Breda nodded. "Longer than we want it to," he replied gruffly. "The assessment that the Northern troops won't be able to uproot anyone out of Briggs, even recently encroaching Drachmans, seems the most accurate. It's going to take us too long to get enough men up there to do that to hope that the Drachman's won't already have pushed further inland and made a move on North City. My earlier recommendations stand."

Rehnquist nodded, then looked at Ed, then Al, Roy, Marcus…the alchemists. "I'm sorry you had to hear that, but I didn't have time to send warning."

"You know?" Ed turned to look at Roy. Both he and Armstrong nodded grimly.

"We're being blamed, yeah I know," Roy added. "I wish I could say I was surprised, but it's just what I would expect from them. Convenient scapegoats and a cover up that conveniently has no evidence to prove that lab was anything other than what they're claiming. Damned brilliant strategy."

Rehnquist nodded. "They've not only physically attacked our soil; they've attacked Amestris' honor, and the very existence of our Alchemy program and use of alchemists by the State. Decades of work to fix that image with our other international neighbors and our people itself is being put on the line. The fact that the Drachmans dare use alchemists themselves is an affront. They are claiming that their alchemists are doing so only for the good of Drachma and not in any way similar to Amestrian alchemists."

"They don't," Al grumbled. "They're far worse."

Ed knew what, on top of the rest of it, was bothering his brother worse than everything else. "What I want to know is how the hell Tamirov ended up General in charge of Drachman alchemists when the last time we saw him his lab was blowing up around his ears and he was despised by the government."

"They'd like us to think as much," Roy snorted. "But you heard what they said; this whole Drachman alchemists thing was his idea. He and Radikov worked it up together and now Radikov's in charge. All this anti-Amestrian alchemist sentiment works to his benefit. Suddenly it's not that all alchemists are supposedly mystical and evil; it's just us attacking them and suddenly alchemy is a tool to the Drachmans too. Even if they lose the war economy will spur new growth such as Drachma hasn't had in generations."

"When do we leave?" Al asked, looking sharply down the table at Rehnquist and Breda. "Is Tamirov at Briggs?"

Rehnquist looked uncomfortable faced with Al's obvious anger, though not because of any likely fear of Al. "With our intelligence claiming that at least three hundred alchemists took Briggs, I think it likely. Whether they have more, we don't know yet. With the frontier now opened up to invasion, I expect we will find out far sooner than we could ever have wanted."

"How many State Alchemists do we have currently?" Breda looked at Kane.

Marcus sighed. "Seventy-four total at present," he informed them. "Only forty-nine of which are currently in Central. The rest are assigned to the other Headquarters or out on assignment. I've already started trying to call in as many of those as possible for immediate reassignment."

"Good," Breda nodded. "We'll be making full use of the State Alchemists in this engagement. We'll show Drachma just what they're messing with."

Was it just him, or did Breda look as insulted at the Drachman slander against Amestrian alchemists as the alchemists obviously were? He supposed it was possible. Breda had been Roy's tactician for years, then President. It was a slight on the government as much as the alchemists; the two were now inextricably linked.

The meeting lasted for nearly an hour and a half, going over the initial wave plan and timeline. Soldiers would be sent to support the northern troops, and plans would be made to set up base in North City, which had a smaller garrison than the other quadrant cities because Northern Headquarters itself might have been there, but most of the north's power resided – or had until now – within the walls of Briggs itself. There was a lot of shuffling units and deciding who to send immediately and who to send later. There was no assumption in the planning that the war would end quickly. If they were fortunate, they could always turn soldiers around. Better to be prepared than behind.

"Also," Rehnquist's lips quirked in a final wry smile, "Consider next week's inspection postponed indefinitely." Ed had the suspicion that everyone would have preferred the inspection to war-preparation. "I'll expect to hear from you all again with daily reports from here on out. I'll send messages for face to face meetings as necessary. Dismissed."

As they made their way to the doors of the room, Ed felt Breda's hand on his shoulder. "Ed, can I have a minute?"

"Sure," Ed stepped aside.

Breda didn't speak until the room was empty. "Look… we need you, Ed. I know I promised when I let you back in this wouldn't happen again but… I'm asking. It's not an order. Talk to Winry, and tell her I owe her either way for even asking."

It wasn't an order to war, not even close, but Ed could see in his old friend's eyes the concern for what was going to happen to the country they had worked so long to preserve. Ed laid a hand on Breda's shoulder. "I'll do what I can," was all he promised. "I appreciate it, Breda, I really do. I'll let you know when I have a decision."

"Good," Breda nodded, offering a smile that neither of them felt. "I…you should know… my entire staff is going with me to North City."

Which would conspicuously not include Ed if he so chose. Ed knew what that meant too though; his son-in-law would be going. "Good to know. See you tomorrow."

"See you."

As Ed left the room and headed down towards the room Kane used for his own meetings, Ed felt torn. He was of two minds over the entire mess. On one hand; it was a war, the thing he hated most after his experiences in Aerugo; and the one thing he had promised Winry he would never go off to fight again, not unless they both decided it was necessary. On the other hand; this wasn't an invasion; the enemy was clear. His actions in this would be directly to protect the people of Amestris. This was the kind of fight he was meant for… and it was personal. Not only because of Tamirov, but because he, Al, and Roy and their wives were being accused of actions directly against the Drachman government that had never been anything of the sort. But who would believe them?

Ed would not go unless Winry approved. He didn't want to leave her behind again. He didn't want to hurt her. But oh… how badly he felt he needed to be a part of this, somehow!

* * *

The State Alchemists' meeting was more intimate in some ways, and also less formal. Edward was unsurprised to find not only himself, Al, Kane, Roy, and Armstrong present, but Sara, Maes, and another dozen alchemists ranked Lieutenant Colonel or higher. It wasn't all of the alchemists, not just yet, but Ed was struck by the reality of the fact that there were not nearly enough State Alchemists to match the forces Drachma was sending in. Powerful or not, not every alchemist was a soldier, and they could be killed by a regular bullet like any other man.

"The primary issue," Kane sighed as he looked around the room, "is that if this turns into an alchemist on alchemist fight, which it probably will, we're horribly outnumbered and we have no idea what the enemy is capable of."

"Destroying the walls of Briggs in record time," Roy quipped sardonically.

"Well there is that," Kane grumbled. "It doesn't seem possible for them to have trained up that many alchemists in four years. Perhaps they actually managed an alliance of existing alchemists despite previous disagreements as well as training new ones. It's possible there's more alchemists in Drachma than we realized, despite their inherent distrust of it as a culture."

"Which seems to have done a drastic turn around," Armstrong commented. "Whatever happens, we need to be certain that our alchemist's actions are above reproach. While we know the truth of what happened in Drachma, and can publish it as much as we like, people may not entirely believe the story."

"Damned politics." Kane sighed and nodded. "You're right of course. But that still doesn't answer the question of what do we do about being dramatically outnumbered." This was, of course, something that had not happened before. How were the Amestrian alchemists supposed to defeat a large force of enemy alchemists? "What do you recommend?" Kane looked straight at Ed.

While he hadn't expected his opinion to be asked first, Ed had already given it a great deal of thought. "We need more alchemists."

"And where do you suggest we get more alchemists in less than a month?"

"Call them," Ed replied, and he couldn't help smirking. "For every alchemist who passes the exam each year, we have at least ten who were talented, skilled, and perfectly capable, but who didn't make that final cut. Besides them, there are plenty of alchemists out there who aren't part of the State and never wanted to join but who won't want to see their homes destroyed either. Now's not the time to be elitist about it." He just hoped they agreed with him on this. "Offer them military rank for as long as they're in; lower than Major maybe, to put them under the trained State Alchemists, but give them a soldier's pay and a chance to do their duty. I think a lot of them would jump at the chance to help instead of watching Drachma come in and take over."

The room was quiet and there were several pairs of wide eyes; but also some small nods. No one disagreed. Kane finally nodded. "You're right, Fullmetal. I'll propose it to Breda." He made a note, then continued. "All right, organization. What Breda and I discussed involves the alchemists being put into autonomous units, not permanently attached to any particular infantry unit. It will gives us the ability to be shuffled around more freely from spot to spot along the front – if it comes to that – and grouped or split up to best effect. I'll want experienced alchemists in positions at the head of each unit of course," he looked up at them. "And I'll be assigning a variety of abilities to each group. Right now, unless there are objections, I'm thinking of five or six alchemists in a unit. We need to be smart. Even if we get a decent amount of reinforcement; they aren't all going to be up to the usual standards of a State Alchemist. So if you've got any other responsibilities you might need to shovel off to someone else before assignments are made, I'd start making plans. While I don't know who's going where yet, there's a good chance every one of us will be out of Central within the month."

The meeting broke up soon after that. Ed was grateful that Kane, like himself, liked to keep meetings short and to the point. They would have plenty of them coming after all. As soon as individual assignments for the moment were given, they were dismissed again.

Ed wasn't any more surprised when Marcus pulled him aside briefly than when Breda had. "Ed, I want you to know that, if you want, I'll make sure you're assigned to stay in Central if possible. You shouldn't have to fight this war."

Ed snorted. "Given I'm one of the guys they're directly blaming; If I don't I look like a guilty coward. I've got to talk to Winry before I do anything, but don't make any assumptions yet, Marcus."

Marcus nodded. "I understand. I had to offer though, you know. Whatever happens…will you be in charge of heading up sorting through which volunteer alchemists we can use and get them organized for me to assign into the main units?"

It was a large responsibility, but one that Ed was actually honored to be offered. Marcus had been under him long enough he obviously trusted Ed's judgment to simply declare who was worthy of becoming a State alchemist, assigning rank, and making unit recommendations. It would also include evaluating them as he had for years. A logical choice. "Thanks," he replied. "Of course I will but, why not Al?"

"Do you think even you could keep him away from the front?" Marcus asked in all seriousness. "We could really use one of you, if not both, on the front, Ed, and after what Tamirov did to Elicia I think if I ordered Al to stay here and teach he'd never go for it."

Ed sighed. "No, I don't." If they tried again, Al wouldn't take it well at all. Tamirov – his wife's tormentor – alive and in a position of honor and power in the enemy military. No, this was obviously not sitting well with him at all. The idea made Ed's stomach turn and he had seen Roy's face; Roy didn't like it either. "I'm sure Al's going to insist on going, and I think he's probably more focused on that than anything else." It was better that Ed handle the incoming alchemists. "I'll spread the word and we'll see what we get. I'll give them two weeks to show up before shipping out."

"Works for me," Marcus nodded, looking relieved. "Thanks. I just can't take that on top of everything else, and I'm going to need Twilight's full-time focus just to keep up with everything the office needs to do. I hope you're right though, that the alchemists we didn't accept will actually show up."

"They're Amestrians, Marcus," Ed replied. "Give them a good offer and tug at their heartstrings, play on their national pride, and they'll show up. They're good people, and I bet any that can come will show. There are plenty of good alchemists in this country who never even wanted to join the state before. Now, they might have a reason."

As he walked out, Ed just hoped that he was right. Otherwise, they were all in a lot of trouble. He would make sure to get the notice written up and sent out this afternoon. Post it in the papers, and make a few phone calls. Then he would go home, and see what Winry had to say on the subject.


	3. Chapter 3

**Still March 3****rd****, 1963 **

Edward wasn't surprised at all to find a massive dinner on the stove when he got home from work. "Expecting an army?" The joke sounded weak, even to him.

Winry turned away from the large bubbling pot of stew. "Shouldn't I be? Sara called a little while ago. They're coming for dinner." With Lia, Ethan, and Tore as well that made nine people.

"So if you talked to Sara, you've already heard," Ed realized.

"That they're mobilizing the State Alchemists and sending them North with the rest of the army to deal with the Drachmans? Yes, I did," Winry replied, sounding almost resigned. "She also told me about the letter from the Drachman government and the newspaper article from this morning."

That information had been recounted during the alchemist's meeting for anyone who had not been invited to the Assembly meeting. There was no need to pass on the information again. Ed didn't even feel like he needed to ask half the questions he had planned to. Winry probably already knew what he wanted to ask. "So, what do you think," he asked simply?

Winry hugged him tightly. "When do we leave?"

What? "We?" Ed had expected discussion, an argument maybe, not this simple acceptance.

"Yes _we_," Winry looked up at him without pulling back. "They'll need doctors and auto-mail mechanics. This is a war. Unless you're going to try and tell me I can't go?" The dangerous flash in her eyes told Ed that if he had been planning to say no, he shouldn't.

Instead, Ed gave her a tighter hug of gratitude. "No I… I'm just glad I'm not going alone," he replied softly. "They're holding us responsible, directly, and attacking our home. If we don't stop them…"

"You'll stop them, Ed," Winry assured him. "I know you all will. We will. No one's going to invade Amestris and get away with it." Then she smirked. "They'll be sorry they ever messed with us."

"I feel sorry for any of them that get near you anyway," Ed chuckled softly, his expression softening. "Breda told me he'd keep me home if he could, if you said to. Kane said pretty much the same thing."

"But you want to go," Winry completed the thought with conviction. "They're questioning our honor – you, me, Al, Elicia, Roy, Riza – as well as everything you've helped build with the alchemists in this country. They want to destroy our home. I can't let them get away with that anymore than you can."

"You're wonderful, you know that," Ed hugged her again.

"You've mentioned it a few times," Winry replied, tilting her head and kissing him warmly.

Ed returned the kiss, losing himself willingly in the moment. Winry's hair smelled like her favorite Xingese cherry blossom scented soaps. Her warm, familiar body pressed against him, a comfort and welcome distraction from the turmoil he'd been feeling for the past two days.

"Next time I come in I'll remember to bring a blindfold."

Ed let the kiss linger a moment longer before letting Winry break it. With a roll of his eyes and a snicker he turned and looked at his former student. "You could also try knocking," he told Tore.

"Hey, the door wasn't locked," Tore replied with an impudent grin, "And I do still live here." At least until he moved into the NCO barracks, which Ed knew Tore had planned to do as soon as he turned eighteen. Ed had, grudgingly, agreed to keep the cat for him. Though he wondered now when that would happen.

"You're in a good mood," Ed commented cautiously. He didn't know how much Tore had been told yet.

At that, Tore's smile faltered. "I thought I'd give optimism a go. So far I don't think it suits me. I keep wanting to hop a train North and start hitting things."

"You're not the only one," Ed admitted as Winry moved away from him and back to the stove. "You'll probably hear it all soon enough anyway; all the State Alchemists are being organized and sent to the front. The Drachmans are holding up what we did to Tamirov's lab as an example of Amestrian interference, and the bastard's still alive, and now in charge of a large number of supposed Drachman alchemists that they used when they took Briggs."

Tore's expression went stone cold for a moment, then his fists clenched. "Bastards! I can't believe that guy's still around either. I'd like to get my hands on him."

"Get in line," Ed snorted. "Al's about a mile ahead of you. I'd like another shot at him too if there's anything left when Al gets through with him." Not that Ed really thought there was much chance of a direct confrontation with Tamirov. If the man was smart, he would stay behind his lines and command from the back.

"Well I guess he does get first dibs," Tore sighed. "I guess I shouldn't worry about moving my stuff just yet. When are we leaving?"  
At least he seemed to be handling the news well; angry but not unreasonable. "We'll start sending people in the next two weeks," Ed replied. "We'll probably all be up there within the month."

"No one's expecting this to be a fast war, huh?" Tore asked.

"Kid, this _is_ a fast war."

It wasn't much longer before Ethan and Lia arrived home from their jobs, and Sara and Franz arrived soon after with Trisha and James in tow. Ed noticed that no one talked much about the news on everyone's minds over dinner. Conversation remained jovial; anecdotes from Ethan's day at the clinic, stories of Lia's students, or funny things Franz had overheard in Breda's offices. Though Franz and Sara's stories were fewer than usual. No one asked why either.

Only afterwards, full of good food and with tea, coffee or other beverages in hand did they all sit down in the living room and bring up the unpleasant topic. Trisha and James were out back with the dogs before it got too dark to play.

"What are you going to do?" Winry asked Sara and Franz first. Both of them had orders to the front. Franz would be going with Breda's office staff, and Sara – of course – in her position as a State Alchemist.

"I'm going to ask Aunt Elicia if she and Aunt Gracia will take care of the kids while we're gone," Sara replied, sipping her tea. She looked concerned and Ed didn't blame her. "If Will and Ren weren't expecting again, we would have asked them."

Winry nodded. "They'll have plenty to do as it is, though I'm sure everyone who stays will help." That was just how their family worked.

Sara gave Winry a suspicious look. "You're going, Mom?"

"Of course she is," Ed spoke up before Winry had even opened her mouth. The truth was, he was relieved. There was no way Breda would let Winry near the front lines again, and Winry would be within reachable distance whenever Ed would have time to see her.

Sara gave him a surprised look, but said nothing. After the events of the Aerugo War all those years ago, Ed didn't blame her. He had learned his lesson. It wasn't even an issue of Winry being allowed to go or not. He needed her nearby; he knew that now. "I guess that will give you some privacy," she grinned at her little brother.

Ethan's expression shifted to one of slightly sheepish embarrassment. "Actually… I'm planning to go myself."

"What!" The word came from several mouths in unison.

"They're going to need doctors," Ethan pointed out reasonably. "And how many alchemical doctors does Amestris have? I can do things others can't; things that will save a lot more lives. Ren certainly can't go."

Ed glanced at Lia, who did not look happy, but she did not look surprised either so he suspected they had at least discussed the possibility on the way home. "You're sure about this," Ed asked, though he didn't feel like it was really a question. Ethan didn't second guess himself often.

Ethan nodded. "I'm positive."

"It looks like almost everyone's going then," Winry sighed.

Lia nodded. "I'll be here," she replied softly. "So I'll help with the kids, Sara. I can't take off in the middle of the semester, and I'm no soldier anyway." She sounded almost as if she wished she were.

"Thanks," Sara smiled, looking relieved.

"Really," Franz added. "When we both got orders, well I wasn't sure what we'd do."

"That's the military." Ed understood completely. Breda and Kane would have conferred. If they needed both Franz and Sara, than both would just have to go. He hoped they both came back safe; for their kids' sake as much as his own love of his family.  
"Who else do you think will come for the call for alchemists?" Sara asked then.

Ed pondered that for a moment. "Well given they've hauled Roy and Armstrong out of retirement? It's pretty dire. I can't say for sure. I do know I'm going to be placing a few calls to specific people though; old friends and anyone whose contact information we still have. Other than that I'll be sending out a general radio announcement and putting it in the papers. There's a lot of good people out there we can use even if they didn't make the cut."

"Well I hope they still want to be State Alchemists," Tore commented from his spot sprawled on the floor in front of the fireplace. Rapscallion – Rap, his cat – was curled up in front of him, rubbing frantically against Tore's hand, begging for affection. Tore scratched him absently. "I don't know if I'd feel some resentment if I hadn't made it."

"Some might," Ed acknowledged. "We'll just have to hope that they don't all feel that way."

* * *

The meal at Alphonse's house was similarly crowded, and even tenser, than the one at Edward's. Al didn't try and make it that way; but he was sure everyone could pick up on his anger over the entire situation. The announcement that Tamirov was alive, unharmed, and in a position of power and immediate threat had struck everyone. Elicia had burst out briefly in tears for the first time in over a year. Will, Ren, Minxia, and Alyse were all at the house, but the usual cheer was subdued. Even Minxia seemed to know something was wrong. After the meal, she sat quietly and played with the kitties while Gracia did the dishes. The kids – Al still thought of them that way – sat around the dining table talking.

Al retreated out onto the back porch. Being around everyone, all he could imagine was the Drachmans raiding Central, taking Elicia again; hurting Alyse, Gracia, Ren… he could see Tamirov's face everywhere and it made him want to break something.

"If you squeeze that glass any tighter it's going to shatter."

At the soft sound of Elicia's voice, Al looked down at the glass of wine in his hand and sighed heavily. He set it down on the back deck railing. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Elicia's hand settled lightly on his. "If anything, apologize to the food you slaughtered while eating it tonight."

Al didn't smile. He'd nearly cracked the plate at one point he'd pressed down so hard with his knife. He felt full, but he couldn't remember really tasting a bite of what he was sure had been a delicious meal. "Is it all right with you… that I'm going?" He hadn't actually asked her. He had pretty much told the family he'd been ordered to it. While he hadn't really received those orders yet in writing, he wanted to go and he knew they wouldn't hold him back. They needed experienced alchemists to end this as fast as possible.

Elicia leaned against him. "I wish you didn't have to," she replied hesitantly. "But I know why you want to go and… and I want that too."

"You do?" Al looked up at her from where he was leaning against the railing, startled.

"How could I not?" Elicia asked, a wry smile appearing at the corner of her lips. "I'd do it myself if I could. But I know I'd be no good there. I'll stay here, and keep home safe and waiting for everyone else."

"You won't be the only one staying here," Al pointed out, turning to face her directly. He rested his hands on her upper arms. "You'll have Gracia, and Ren and Will, and Alyse."

"Well…actually," Will cut in, clearing his throat.

"Actually?" Al looked at the door to the house, where Will was now standing.

His son looked serious. "I'm coming too. You said Uncle Ed was in charge of recruiting civilian alchemists to join up. Well count me in."

Al had to admit he wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not. Will was hardly the military type, but he was a trained alchemist and he was familiar with most of the fighting techniques even if he was a little out of practice. "Does Ren approve of this?" Al wasn't sure _he_ did. In just about six months they would have a second child. Leaving Ren alone now, and Minxia, going off to war with a definite risk of combat and possibly getting killed; it made Al nervous.

"I do," Ren replied, stepping up beside Will, who moved out onto the front porch to make room and put his arm around his petite wife's shoulders. "I would go myself if I could, but of course that's not possible."

"I should say not," Al replied. "Though given the number of wounded we're likely to have shipped back to Central eventually, you'll be just as busy here and far safer."

"Which is part of how I talked her into staying," Will chuckled weakly. "I need to go, Dad. If Amestris needs alchemists I know I'm qualified, and it's…an issue of family pride."

He couldn't argue that. "And I suppose you're going to say the same thing?" Al turned to look at his daughter who had poked her head out the door now as well.

Alyse shook her head. "Do I look foolish?" She asked the question as if the answer should be obvious. "They won't need me to coordinate events in North City; not unless we're inviting the Drachmans for tea. Even as an alchemist I'm hardly combat trained and ready."

Al enfolded his daughter in a tight, fierce hug. "Thank goodness one of us has some sense."

Alyse stiffened briefly, then hugged him back just as tightly. "Someone has to."

When he stepped back Elicia was looking teary eyed. "Honey," Al felt immediate concern. "Are you all right?"

Elicia nodded despite the tears. "I'm just… proud, and afraid, and worried all at once," she admitted. "I want you both to promise you'll come home safe. It's not worth it if anything happens to either one of you."

Will chuckled and hugged his mother. "I have to, Mom. Ren will find a way to make me suffer for all eternity if I don't. Besides, I've got another kid to meet." He flashed her a grin.

"So we'll make it a quick war," Al suggested, joining in Will's obvious attempt to lighten the mood. It was about all he could do at this point. Soon enough, they would be seeing the ugly reality that Al still remembered face-to-face. The girls didn't need to be scared by it before it was time to say _see you later._ Al would not contemplate _goodbye._

* * *

Roy Mustang was quiet as the car pulled away from Maes and Elena's house after dinner. It had been a relatively pleasant night. Seeing his son's family always was, though tonight's conversation had, not unexpectedly, been dominated with discussion of the Drachman invasion and the coming retaliation. That talk had only begun, however, once his grandkids were tucked away in bed where they couldn't hear.

As Roy had expected, Maes – having been at the meeting – had already received orders from Kane by the end of the day. Roy had talked with the Sky Fire Alchemist himself before leaving Headquarters. Being a retired State Alchemist, General, and former President of the Military, he obviously had top pick of assignments and a position at the head of an alchemy unit if he wanted.

The problem was, it wasn't a question of wanting. There was nothing Roy wanted more than to hop the next train to Briggs and burn out the Drachmans and send them fleeing back beyond the walls.

Roy was fairly convinced that the toughest obstacle to that would be the beautiful blond driving the car. Riza had been oddly reticent all evening. She had taken the opportunity to volunteer to put little Roy, Dorothéa, and Rochelle to bed. Still, Roy wondered if she had actually missed out on anything said in that house all evening; knowing Riza, probably not.

It was a quiet drive home. It was dark and misting rain and Roy didn't want to distract Riza from her driving in the weather.

"Did you notice?"

Roy blinked, then turned his head. "Notice what?" Had he missed something on the road? They had just parked in the driveway.

Riza gave him a small, slightly sad smile. "Maes and Elena. I haven't seen them so affectionate since before Rochelle was born."

Startled, Roy realized she was right. "Oh right that," he nodded as if his observational skills weren't in the slightest bit rusty!

Riza obviously didn't buy it, but she didn't comment beyond a knowing look. "Don't you find it interesting?"

Roy had to think about it for a minute. His son's marriage was a topic he didn't prefer to contemplate much. "You think things are actually improving," he asked? "If nothing else, a war is a great way to remind people to appreciate each other." Maes and Elena had fallen in love in a war zone; the chances of getting out of there with both of them alive in serious question. That passion had lasted, honestly, longer than Roy had expected when Maes first brought her home. But it had, through the birth of two children. Everything had, in Roy's opinion, gone downhill ever since the accident that caused Elena's miscarriage, and then the Court-Martial trial. Ever since then, things seemed peaceful on the surface, but Roy didn't see the joy or the contentment he remembered. The youthful passion he had _expected _to mellow, not die.

"Maybe that's it," Riza agreed as she unbuckled and climbed out of the car. "I know this sounds selfish, but I hope this will give the shakeup in life they need to make things work again."

"You wouldn't say it's working now?" Roy asked curiously as he got out and followed her to the door and inside. It was almost a rhetorical question. Roy wouldn't have said so either, despite the fact that everything _seemed_ fine.

Riza shook her head and hung up her long dark blue coat. "No, I wouldn't. They're so quietly polite to each other all the time in public, and I don't mean that they've simply relaxed or stopped behaving like hormonal teenagers."

Roy stepped behind Riza and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Like this?" He snickered as he kissed her cheek.

Riza sighed, but she was smiling as she turned around within the circle of his arms. She shook her head. "Precisely." The smile faded. "It was such a sudden shift. When I talk to Elena, she's still in love. She wants what they had before, but she's right. Maes has changed."

Roy nodded. "He's afraid." Roy almost didn't have to guess how his son was feeling. "Maes used to do everything full-out, no matter what it was he put everything he had into it. School, alchemy, fighting… love. But he doesn't trust himself anymore. I've tried to talk to him, but I'm not sure anything really sticks with him. He's spent so many years trying to make something of himself, and then nearly ruining his chances on impulses. He was willing to risk everything for a cause or a person."

"That sounds familiar," Riza smiled softly again.

Roy smiled back. "Yeah, doesn't it? But he's afraid now; afraid that another mistake will ruin what he's got left and he's probably sure it's just a matter of time before he makes it." He felt his smile slip as he spoke.

Riza leaned her head gently against his chest. "With that attitude it's almost guaranteed that he'll either make it, or spend so much time worrying about it he misses everything else."

Roy's heart ached as he thought about it. There were some ways in which he wished his son did not share attributes of Roy's personality. "They both need something to shake them out of this; the routine, the rut." Elena was hardly the firecracker Roy remembered either. She had not come out of those difficult times unscathed emotionally either. Her job the last few years obviously made her happy; but it seemed to be doing the opposite to Maes, even though he refused to say a word other than to support her decision. "I don't want to see them fall apart, Riza."

"There's only so much we can do," she replied softly. "We've been supportive as we can be. In the end, it's up to them. It's their relationship."

Roy nodded. "I'm so glad I have you," he replied in a near-whisper, pulling her tightly against him. "You always smack some sense into me when I need it."

Riza chuckled. "I'm just fortunate that still works with you. Why, do I need to do it again?"

"Possibly." Roy straightened up so he could look down at her properly. "Marcus has offered me a unit, if I want it."

The knowing look in Riza's eyes made it plain she already knew his heart's desire. "Is there anything I can say that would convince you not to take it?"

Not an answer that inspired confidence. "You could say _no_," he pointed out. "You've never had a problem telling me exactly what you think about me when it suits you. I don't care that they're throwing that mess from a few years back all over the news as propaganda and calling us all international saboteurs. But I'm the one who negotiated both of the last peace treaties with Drachma. I feel responsible for what happens to Amestris even though I'm no longer in charge of it. I can't let everything we've given our whole lives worth of work to build get ripped apart."

"You want to re-burn the borderline into their minds with a visual aid," Riza snorted softly. "You're an alchemist, Roy. So was my father. So is my son and so many of our friends."

"So there's some ego involved," Roy smirked. "I never claimed to be completely magnanimous."

"Good thing too; you'd be lying through your teeth," Riza replied. "You know, I had rather hoped you would stay retired. That maybe someday we could relax and enjoy ourselves without you getting into trouble."

"But?" Roy knew that tone.

Riza's slight shoulder shrug was more eloquent than a dissertation on the subject. "But you're Roy Mustang, and that's never going to change."

"Does that mean I can go?" Roy's eye widened in surprise.

Riza nodded, one hand coming up to brush the left side of his face. He felt its smooth skin above strong hands that were still as steady a shot as they ever were. "It means _we_ can go."

Suddenly this seemed like a much more dangerous idea. "You want to go? You hate battlefields. What if-"

"What if something happens to me?" Riza smirked. "Then you'll just have to protect me won't you? I'm not about to let you go out there without someone qualified to guard your back and your blind side."

Roy could see no other reasonable objections. "I guess that does require a rather particular set of skills," he grinned, "Someone clever, capable of keeping up with me; someone who knows her place and can follow orders."

"Hey!" Riza objected, her hand slapping his cheek lightly instead. "I said guard. I'm not your subordinate anymore, I'm your wife. Remember who takes the orders around here."

"Right, right," Roy laughed as he pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. _How could I ever forget? _

* * *

Dinner that night broke up late. When Ethan excused himself to go to bed his father and Sara were still talking organizational strategy for the alchemist units with Franz and Tore playing cards in the room, giving occasional peripheral commentary. Lia had gone to take a bath and his mother was reading James and Trisha a story up in her room on the master bed.

Ethan got undressed, did a few before-bed stretches, and then lay down, closing his eyes and just relaxing while he waited for Lia to join him. It had been a relatively calm day at work considering the uproar the country was in. No matter what happened, sore throats needed to be looked at, busted limbs set and put on the mend, babies delivered. That was the way things went. He and Ren had gone about business as usual aside from Ethan's bringing up the possibility of going to the front and serving as a military alchemical doctor. Even Ren had agreed they could use him.

Lia had been a little reluctant when he brought up the idea on the way home, but hadn't taken much convincing. Though it meant making a few changes in their priorities and a lot of talk before hand. Ethan had every intention of working in a back field hospital and coming home alive and well.

He could tell it was still on Lia's mind too the moment the bedroom door opened. Even without opening his eyes, he could sense her moment of pause in the door, then the door closing and he felt that pleasant shift of the weight of his bed as his wife lay down beside him. "Ethan, are you awake?"

Ethan opened his eyes. "Yeah, just thinking."

"That seems to be a curse around here lately," Lia smiled softly as she snuggled up against his side. Ethan slipped an arm instinctively around her shoulders. They had barely been married six months, and now this. It didn't seem fair, but then life rarely was. "Are you sure about this?"

It was the question Ethan had been waiting for. He drew her closer as he rolled onto his side so he could look into her eyes as he spoke. "It's something I need to do. They need doctors, and in a war an alchemical doctor is even more important. I can do things none of the others can. It's my duty to go, as a physician, as an alchemist…"

"As an Elric?" Her lips quirked into a knowing smile.

"Yeah, that too," Ethan chuckled and kissed her cheek. "They're likely to stick me way back behind the lines in a field hospital. I'll probably never see a bit of action."

"That's not all I'm worried about," Lia admitted finally. "It's cold up north, and if this doesn't end before the fall, it's just going to be even worse."

"I'll have cold-weather auto-mail installed on my fingers," Ethan assured her, "Promise."

"Don't avoid the issue," Lia shook her head. "It hasn't even been two years since you almost _died._ You could get sick again."

"I'll take care of myself," Ethan promised, his hand playing absently with damp strands of her freshly washed hair. "I'll eat, and rest, and all that other stuff you're always nagging me about."

Lia giggled and kissed him gently. "You'd better. I'll write you every day reminding you."

"The other guys will get sweet romantic letters, and I'll get nagging," Ethan couldn't help smiling at the thought.

"One of the perks of being married," Lia teased.

There were quite a few of those, Ethan had been discovering. "I'm sorry this means putting a delay on our other plans," he added apologetically.

"It's all right, we have time," Lia assured him. "It's disappointing, but it's not like you planned this."

"Still, I feel bad about it." They had only just decided recently after all.

Lia pulled his face to hers for another kiss, this one more heated. "Then make it up to me."

Ethan returned it willingly; tired, but he thought he might have the energy for it. "Yes ma'am."


	4. Chapter 4

**March 10****th****, 1963**

Over the next week the situation did not improve. The troops sent up to Briggs to forestall the Drachmans were held off with laughable ease, and those foolish enough to make an aborted attempt to retake the Fort were destroyed. If war had not already been declared, it would have been now. What was worse; one day after that defeat, the Drachmans sent men marching south from Briggs towards North City, practically mowing over the remaining troops in the process.

News from inside Briggs was practically non-existent with the Drachmans in control. Still, a few frantic folks hiding in the depths and twisting passageways that made up the underground managed to get messages out. The information coming out was grim. Confirmation of the death of General Olivia Armstrong and most of her higher level officers was the hardest blow. The sheer numbers of Drachmans reportedly coming in was just as devastating. Thousands of men, likely hundreds of thousands, and who knew how many more were lined up in the mountains behind them. It was spring; the passes would only get clearer.

In Central, everything was organized chaos. As soon as units could be organized and ready they were on trains heading north. They had to reach North City before the Drachmans and set up a functional line of defense. A hard, fast and solid counter-movement was their best bet to stall the Drachman invasion and buy them the time they needed to get enough men and alchemists up to the lines to push them back.

That was the theory anyway. Putting it into practice was always a different story. For now, they were still days or weeks from that reality. Still, two units of alchemists had already left Central, with all of the Northern Command's alchemists – those who weren't in Briggs – already there. The other Headquarters were mobilizing as fast as possible. Alchemists were being sent to the forefront – a new priority compared to previous wars - because the Drachmans kept using their alchemists first.

An irony not lost on Edward as he stood in the middle of the outdoor training grounds of Central, watching the alchemists in front of him; most of them the 'new recruits' who had been arriving in decent numbers for a couple of days now. There were several more experienced alchemists out there as well, mostly assisting with the evaluation of the newcomers. As they made it through the fitness tests, and then moved in to demonstrations of alchemy, Ed would determine who was fit to join up and who would do better in a support role – no offer of able-bodied help was going to go denied after all. Those who qualified to become state enlisted alchemists Ed assigned a military rank. Though, unlike regular State Alchemists, there was no guaranteed automatic rank of Major. They wanted all of the alchemists less familiar with military life following orders of the existing State Alchemists. It was safer that way.

"Hey there, Fullmetal. Got room for a few more?"

The familiar voice made Ed turn, and grin at familiar but long absent faces. "Russell!" He recognized the man at once. He was standing with four other people. Another man his age, a bit shorter but quite a bit fatter, with a jovial smile. The three younger ones were obviously Russell's two boys, grown now, and a woman, though Ed had to struggle to remember their names. The young woman, who looked about twenty… was that one of Fletcher's girls?

Ed took a second look at the heavy-set guy grinning at him. "Fletcher?" Ed couldn't help but stare a moment at the man. Russell looked relatively unchanged despite the gradual signs of getting older Ed had almost stopped noticing on his friends. Tall, lean, and while his hair was going white, there was still plenty of it. Ed had seen both Tringham brothers occasionally over the years, but it had been at least fifteen since he'd seen Russell's little brother, who pretty much never left Xenotime. Ed was used to the fact that even Fletcher had gotten taller than he was, but he was a good bit bigger than Ed now. He snickered as he shook his hand. "And I thought little brothers were supposed to be smaller than their big brothers."

Russell snorted. "I thought you'd have given up on that years ago, Ed."

"I can dream," Ed shrugged.

Fletcher laughed. "Well I'm still shorter," he shrugged, unbothered by Ed's observation. "What can I say, Elisa is an amazing cook. It'd be an insult to leave anything on the plate."

"For thirds and fourths," The girl laughed. "Don't even try and weasel out of it, Daddy."

Fletcher kept grinning. "Yeah yeah. I think your mother only let me come hoping I'll drop a few pounds in the military."

"Well I think we can arrange that," Ed smirked back, "If you won't pass out on me."

"I'll manage," Fletcher assured him. "Farming is a pretty good workout."

"Despite evidence to the contrary?" Ed quipped. He looked around at the rest of the group. "So this is Derrick and Felix right?" He looked at Russell's sons. They were in their early twenties if he remembered right.

The two boys grinned as Russell nodded. "You didn't think they'd stay out of the action did you? They're good alchemists."

Ed turned to look at the girl. "I…. I'm sorry," he admitted, "I don't know which one you are." All he knew was that Fletcher and Elisa had a big family; six kids if he remembered correctly! This one was probably the youngest, but he couldn't be sure, and he couldn't place her name.

Fortunately she didn't seem offended. "Lyssa Tringham," she smiled. "I'm the youngest. Mom sent me to keep an eye on Daddy, but I'm an alchemist too."

"Definitely runs in the family," Ed nodded, pleased, and grateful to see two old friends and that alchemy was alive and well in their family as well. Five trained alchemists he knew he could trust.

"So can you use us?" Russell asked with a smug grin.

"I called you didn't I?" Ed admitted then with a laugh. "Hey Perkins," he waved over a Major. "Show this group to the alchemist enlistment office, then put the First Lieutenant here through our _break 'em in_ basic training in the gym," he got behind Fletcher and gave him a shove in Perkins' direction. "Give him a test run for me and make sure he'll survive."

Perkins, "Yes Sir, Fullmetal!" He turned to head off, four of the alchemists following along behind him.

"He'll survive," Russell chuckled, hanging back briefly. "Fletcher's in better shape than he looks. What about me, Ed?"

Ed eyed Russell contemplatively for a moment, letting a skeptical frown cross his features before it broke and he snickered. "I dunno, Major, you think you can be of use?"

Russell's eyes went wide. "Major?" He obviously realized what Ed had just done; given him the same rank as any bonafide State Alchemist. "You mean it?"

"If anyone can boss people around, think on his feet, and get things accomplished, it's you," Ed grinned, clapping Russell on the shoulder with one hand. "One bit of advice; don't try claiming you're me. Right now, the Drachmans want my intestines and head on a pike."

Russell grimaced. "Hey, last time it was all your doing," he reminded him. "I haven't done anything that stupid in decades."

"Good," Ed's grin widened. "Don't start now."

* * *

_Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty. _With a grunt, Tore set the weights back on their bar and slid forward, sitting up on the bench. He reached for the towel next to him and mopped sweat off his face.

"You'll work yourself into an early grave," a male voice chuckled from behind him. Tore turned in time to see the Whitewater Alchemist – in loose pants and a tank top no different from Tore's own military standard issue – walk into the weight room.

"That's actually what I'm trying to avoid," Tore quipped, hoping it didn't make him sound uneasy about the coming war. Truth was, he was actually eager to get into it with the Drachmans after what happened years back.

Whitewater stopped and grinned down at him, leaning back casually against the wall. "Good plan. It looks like we'll be working together."

So that's what he wanted to talk about. Tore nodded. "We're both assigned to Lyssandra Fines' unit, right Whitewater?"

The older alchemist nodded. "That's what my orders said," he grinned. "I have to say I'm looking forward to it."

"And why's that?" Tore asked curiously. He doubted it was the pleasure of his company.

Whitewater snickered. "Well the Emerald Alchemist's quite the woman as well as a top rate alchemist. She fought in the Xing War and the Aerugo War. She'll be a good commanding officer. Though I admit I'm curious about you," he added with a nod, "Shock Alchemist. Second youngest State Alchemist we've ever had and a student of Fullmetal's to boot."

"Former student, Sir" Tore pointed out. He and Edward had agreed that their relationship as Teacher and student was too much pressure on top of having the Elrics as foster parents a while ago. He had done all his work to make State Alchemist on his own after that.

"All right," Whitewater replied, "But don't call me sir. Whitewater's fine, or Fischer, or Cal. I'm not big on formality outside of official situations." He shrugged and then sat down on the next bench over. As he did so Tore caught an odd flash of metal on the ankle of Whitewater's leg. Tore knew Cal had auto-mail, but it looked different than what Tore would have expected. "Is that cold weather automail?"

Cal grinned and rolled up his pant leg a little, knocking on the casing with one hand and giving Tore a better look at the same time. "Yep, Mrs. Elric attached it yesterday afternoon. Man that woman has soft hands."

Tore smirked. "Is there a woman in the world you won't talk about like that?"

"Hey, it's a compliment," Cal smirked as he stretched out his back, arms behind his head. "I was about to put it through its paces. Want to go for a run with me?"

"Sure." It wasn't like he had anything else to do now. He had plenty of time left for his workout and nothing else to do other than pack. Getting to know someone else in his unit and working out more definitely fit on the schedule. So he joined Cal for a few laps around the track.

By this point in the afternoon the place was pretty packed with State Alchemists and soldiers alike. Tore knew he was in for it though when Cal started asking him questions _while_ running. His endurance was good; not that any State Alchemist wouldn't have it, but Tore hadn't been in nearly that long. He refused to give up though, answering and refusing to pant or lose his breath.

"Do I get to ask you any questions?" Tore asked once Cal already had the basic story – Tore's version – of his mother, his uncle the alchemist who hated the State, and the adventure in Drachma he had been part of that was now being considered the primary motivation behind some very nasty politics.

"When I'm done," Cal laughed briefly as they finished mile two. "I'll spare you the questions about that little trip of yours that had Fullmetal in an uproar a bit back. At least until later. Fine, shoot away."

Time at last to do something other than be interrogated. Tore didn't have to think. "So you were in the Aerugo war, right?"

Fischer's smile flickered just briefly before returning. "Yeah."

"What was it like?"

Cal turned a knowing smirk on him. "Why, nervous?"

"A little," Tore admitted. "Though only an idiot wouldn't be. But I've been in fights before and used alchemy in combat." Okay so only in Drachma, but it was better than nothing.

"Well it was something else," Cal replied, actually getting to Tore's question. "Hard to describe if you haven't been there, but it was pretty intense. Word of advice," he added with a wry smirk, "Don't step on landmines."

Tore swallowed. That was, he remembered now, how Whitewater had lost his leg. "I'll definitely remember that." He fell silent for about a quarter lap, and Cal did the same. "So, why'd you want to talk to me; just to interrogate me," Tore finally asked? It wasn't like Cal couldn't have done this just about any time.

Cal shrugged. "Let's just say I was curious. We've never really talked before even though I know who you are. That and people talk. I hear stories." He glanced sideways at him, making Tore curious and nervous at the same time. "I know folks in the mountains," he added by way of general explanation. "Up the North-West part of Amestris…that's where I'm from."

Aha! So Cal was probably familiar with the areas Tore had been traipsing through. No wonder he was interested in talking. Tore listened a little as Cal mentioned his mother still lived up that way. It was pretty interesting and Tore didn't mind. He had heard about the Whitewater Alchemist, and it was interesting to try and compare reality to the stories.

"Hey, Whitewater, Shock! Get over here a minute."

Tore's head turned sharply the same time Cal's did and he spotted Lyssandra Fines, the Emerald Alchemist, standing over to one side.

Cal grinned. "Looks like our commanding officer wants a word."

The two alchemists veered off the track and joined their Colonel. Tore decided that, despite how much older she was than him, and even a few years older than Cal, he could see that Cal's comments regarding her earlier were not without merit. Lyssandra Fines was a good looking woman. "I don't know what I did to end up with you two," she smirked when they stopped. "I've heard good things about you though from Twilight and Sky Fire," she nodded to Tore.

"What about me?" Cal grinned impishly.

"I know all about you already, Whitewater. Don't go fishing for compliments." Fines shook her head.

"That's what I do," Cal quipped.

Tore groaned at the pun, which earned him a small smile from the Emerald Alchemist. "I hope I live up to what you've heard, ma'am," he replied, deciding now was definitely not the time to try for familiarity.

"Then I'll ignore what I've heard from Fullmetal," she replied.

"What?" Tore stared at her. What was that supposed to mean?

Apparently his expression was clear, because Fines shook her head and grinned at him. 'I'm joking, Closson. Fullmetal had a lot of good things to say about your abilities. I think we'll make a good team all together." It was the three of them, Polasky, and Kieleigh Rennaux, a pretty girl a couple of years older than Tore who had also just passed the exam with him. "I expect Kane had something specific in mind when he put both of you together on a team," she added, eyeing them. "Water and electricity should yield some interesting results."

"Well they get along together better than water and fire," Fischer teased.

"I seem to recall that combination worked to great effect in Aerugo," Fines countered. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we'll be having a meeting first thing tomorrow morning. By then I will have our first assignment and we'll discuss the details. Until then, by all means, get back to work."

When she walked away, Tore looked over at Cal. "You're right, she's really something."

"Yep," Cal nodded as he headed back out onto the track. "Too bad she's married."

* * *

The only reason there were currently spaces in the standard military barracks, Russell realized, was because soldiers and alchemists were already pouring out of Central at a prodigious rate. That was why he and Fletcher had a room to themselves. Felix and Derrick were a few rooms down, and Lyssa was bunking in with another newly enlisted female alchemist in another part of the complex.

The first day had been grueling, but no more than Russell would have expected. He had learned quickly that Edward hadn't been joking about making Russell a full Major. That was the rank insignia passed out to him with his uniform. There was no State Alchemist's watch to go with it, but Russell hadn't been expecting one. He also knew that they were a symbol and little else. He wasn't as offended as he would have been when he was younger. He knew the responsibility he had just been handled with an equivalent rank. That meant Ed considered him as good as – and reliable as – the State Alchemists he had trained for years. Russell would do his best to live up to that.

After filling out paperwork and being handed uniforms and any other necessary military accoutrements, Russell now understood what Ed had meant when he told Perkins to put them through a _break 'em in _workout. Russell had been pleased to make it through without collapsing! Even though he and his sons exercised regularly, and sparred, they did not train as extensively as the State Alchemists obviously did. Derrick, Felix, and Lyssa had been pressed hard but proved themselves easily capable.

Russell turned his head as his brother came back into the room after dinner and a much needed shower. Fletcher had survived, if barely, though he kept up a good spirit through-out the entire thing. He blinked. Fletcher had obviously decided to try on his uniform.

Fletcher grinned and flashed Russell a tired salute and a rather silly smile. "How's it look, Major?"

"About as out of place as mine felt earlier," Russell admitted with a chuckle. His head was resting on his hands, which were crossed behind them. "It's a bit small."

Fletcher shrugged and unbuttoned the jacket. "If the rest of this is like today, I don't think that'll be a problem." He stripped back down to his shorts and undershirt and crawled into bed. "I'm beat!"

"Do you still think we're doing the right thing?" Russell asked after he heard his brother settle in and turn off the light.

"Of course I do," Fletcher replied, sounding drowsy. "Ed _asked_ us to come. He wouldn't have if we weren't needed."

"I just hope we're up to the task. He's putting a lot of faith in us." The last time Ed had actually asked Russell to take part in a mission, Russell had ended up playing bait. This was different.

Fletcher chuckled. "Why shouldn't he? You should just be grateful he trusts you so much, Russ. He could have stuck you down at second lieutenant with the kids."

"I'm almost surprised he didn't," Russell admitted, grinning into the darkness. "Felicity told me not to expect much."

"Elisa said the same thing to me," Fletcher admitted. "Though I called her after dinner. She was glad to hear they let us in. She sounded worried though."

Russell nodded. "So did Felicity when I called her a few minutes ago," he replied. That was part of what worried him. Neither he nor Fletcher had been off adventuring much since they had gotten married. Russell's few trips had been relatively uneventful. Fletcher was quite content to be rooted to the farm in Xenotime; working on botanical alchemy and raising a mess of kids.

That was why they were really doing this. Like everyone else, they didn't want to see Amestris demolished by the Drachmans, even if it meant joining the State. Though that was hardly the abandonment of decency it had been when they were boys.

"They'll be all right," Fletcher replied reassuringly, though the last word was broken by a large yawn. "We'll help how we can and when it's done, we'll go back home where it's safe, because we'll have kept it safe."

"You're right," Russell replied. "Good night, Fletcher."

"Good night, Russell."

It wasn't even a minute before Russell heard the even deep breathing that told him his brother was out cold. A blue moon beam spilled across the floor between their two beds, smacking against the far wall and the door to the room. As he drifted off, Russell found himself wishing he had his wife curled up beside him, and they were safe at home, and the Drachmans were up beyond their mountain ranges where they belonged.

The adventure hadn't even started yet, and already he was wishing it was over. Just what, he wondered as he drifted off himself, did that say about him? He wasn't sure. All Russell wanted was to come home alive. He had promised his wife that; her family home safely when it was over. He would do everything he could to hold to that promise.

**March 12****th****, 1963**

"We don't ship out for three days," Edward commented as he looked at Winry sorting through her clothes in the bedroom. "Do you have to do all the packing tonight?"

Winry gave him a glance over her shoulder that told Edward it was a woman thing. "Unlike you, who has his entire wardrobe regulated for him by the military, I'm still a civilian and I still need to pack anything I could possibly need for several months, but fit it into a week or two worth of outfits. That takes planning."

Okay, so maybe she had a point. Ed leaned against the doorjamb and smiled. "I get you. At least you know you can leave the dresses behind."

"Oh and here I thought we'd have time for a little ballroom dancing in between battles," Winry laughed as she tucked a neat stack of clean, long-sleeve, collared shirts and sweaters into her suitcase. Even from where he stood, Ed could see she had already packed undergarments, her warmest sleepwear, socks, and pants. There wasn't a skirt or dress in the lot, despite his teasing. Winry would be working auto-mail and probably as a nurse the entire time. Everything looked practical and warm.

"Only on leave," Edward teased back lightly. He watched her, and felt a twinge of regret that, once again, they were packing off on some adventure, and it wasn't something they were likely to enjoy.

"We'll have to make sure you get some of that then." Winry turned and came to him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug he eagerly returned. The feel of her in his arms was one of which he would never grow tired.

"I'll try," Ed promised, squeezing her back tightly. "At least we'll be together." For as long as his unit was assigned near where-ever they decided to put Winry. Once they had a base of operations for that, chances were that the two of them would be separated for weeks at a time. Ed's alchemist unit could be sent anywhere.

"I'll see plenty of Ethan too," Winry smiled. "There's a good chance we'll be somewhere nearby."

"Hopefully far from the front lines," Ed replied softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Winry."

"Oh yes you do," Winry kissed his cheek. "But I'm not going anywhere so don't get any ideas. We'll get through this together, just like we always do."

She had a point. Okay, several. Ed knew he would be lost without her in his life, but also that they had made it this far. "Of course we will."

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. "I wonder who that is," Winry commented, curious.

Lia and Ethan were over at Will and Ren's this evening. Tore was out somewhere with friends, enjoying his last few days of freedom. Ed had brought home Xingese take-out so Winry wouldn't have to cook for just two of them. "I'll go see." He let go of her regretfully and headed downstairs.

Daia and Pir were standing at the door wagging their tails eagerly. Someone they knew? Possible; they liked almost everyone who came over. Edward stopped though, stunned, when he opened the door and saw who was standing on his doorstep. "Aldon?"

His middle son grinned sheepishly, a duffle slung over his shoulder. "Hey, Dad."

"Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?" Ed stared at him.

Aldon chuckled. "You didn't think I was going to let the rest of the family run off and have all the fun did you?"

Ed could tell Aldon was being funny to lighten the mood. It was a serious topic, but he got the point. Aldon had also joined up. "I guess not," he sighed, stepping out of the way. "Come on in. Have you eaten?"

"Not in a while," Aldon admitted. "What have you got?"

"Leftover Xingese," Ed grinned as he headed for the kitchen.

"Aldon?" Winry had reached the stairs and obviously recognized her son's voice. She was down the stairs in a flash, hugging him tightly. "It's so good to see you."

"Good to see you too," Aldon hugged her tightly.

"He's coming with us, apparently," Ed commented, cutting to the chase.

Winry looked up at Aldon, startled. "You?"

"I'm not an alchemist, but I couldn't stay home and do nothing," Aldon replied. "I'm an engineer, and an auto-mail mechanic. Every army needs them as much as anything else. So I'm not a fighter. I've got a brain and I'm actually a decent shot with a gun if I have to protect myself."

Winry hugged Aldon again, even tighter. "You're incredible, but what about Cassie and the boys?"

Aldon's smile slipped. "Cassie and I talked it over, or I wouldn't be here. If Drachma wins, we have no home left. Either they'll destroy what's there, or we'll be living in an occupied country; little better than slaves, second class citizens in our own homeland. It'd be like Ishbal all over again; maybe worse. I can't let my sons live in a world like that."

Ed couldn't have agreed more. Much as he might not like it; he could not argue with the facts. All three of his children were going to the war. "Well welcome to the party," he commented with a soft chuckle. He finished pulling the Xingese food back out of the fridge. "Heat up whatever you like."

Aldon smiled back. "Thanks, Dad. Sorry I didn't call first. I hopped the train almost as soon as Cassie and I reached a decision. I also wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"Well it might have been nice to be able to get you a room ready," Ed smirked. "You're lucky the upstairs guest room is available or you'd be parking it on the couch."

"Or at Sara's," Aldon pointed out. "No, upstairs is fine. It's not like we'll be here long right? I report in tomorrow morning and find out my unit. When I called they weren't sure if they'd put me as an auto-mail mechanic, battle engineer, or something of both. I won't be a soldier obviously."

"Thank goodness for that," Winry replied. Ed could see that she too was worried about all of their children going off to war. Franz too; and with Al and Will coming, it was most of the Elric family.

Aldon nodded, then stepped away long enough to set down his bag. "Coran wanted to come with me," he commented as he took the Xingese from Ed and started to spoon some out onto a plate. "Not to the battle, though I think he would if he could have gotten away with it, like Sara," he added with a wry grin. "He wanted to see you both, and everyone else, and he _did _want to help. I told him the best thing he could do was take care of Cassie and his brothers for me."

"He's growing up fast," Winry commented softly. Ed wondered if she was trying not to get overly emotional.

"Kids in our family do tend to do that," Ed commented. "Has he decided what he wants to do with himself?"

Aldon paused. "Honestly, I'm not sure he knows anymore, but depending on how this turns out, don't be surprised if he finally asks you about learning alchemy." There had been a time they had all been sure Coran would ask Ed about being his student, but he was almost thirteen now and had not done so. Instead he had shown a more steady interest in his father's inventiveness and helping him out in his workshop.

"You don't think he's given up on the idea?"

Aldon shook his head. "He still brings it up from time to time, but he really wants to learn from you, and he doesn't get the chance to spend much time with you. He knows it would mean moving to Central, and he's just not quite ready to leave the entire family behind for months at a time."

At that, Winry giggled. When Ed turned to look at her, she was smiling again. "Well at least there's one young man in this family who doesn't suffer from wanderlust."

**March 14****th****, 1963**

"I can't believe you're leaving tomorrow," Charisa sighed as she looked across the dinner table.

Breda felt a twinge of guilt, but really it couldn't be helped. "It came fast," he agreed. Tomorrow the main force of Alchemists as well as the war staff would be getting on a train and heading north. "But there's not anything left to be done about it." He sighed and took another bite of the delicious steak in front of him. Nancy had outdone herself tonight. The food was incredible.

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" Niam asked around a mouthful of pasta.

"No idea," Breda replied. In the past couple of weeks, the Drachmans had walked all over what Amestris had sent as first defense, and was pushing them steadily backwards towards North City. They hoped to form a barrier north of the city and defend it, but people were being evacuated out of the Drachman army's path as fast as they could get out of town. Everyone had been warned to leave if they could, and leave the fighting to the military. "Hopefully we'll be able to stall them and stop them cold."

Then either the Drachmans would hammer at them until they ran out of supplies, or they'd be able to rout the Drachmans and make them retreat. Getting them out of Briggs would be another question all together. That assumed, of course, that the Drachmans didn't attempt to flank the city and move around their defensive line. Breda was convinced they would, but if they didn't make a concerted force in the middle first and just spread out the troops along the line, the Drachmans would walk right through them like they weren't even there. It was a matter of guessing the enemy's moves three, four, maybe ten moves in advance, and finding ways to counter them all. But then, wasn't that supposed to be his specialty?

"Just cause I'm gone doesn't mean things around here don't need doing," he spoke up again, hoping to shift the subject a little. "Niam…"

"You need me to be the man of the house right?" Niam asked, looking proud and perhaps a little smug.

Breda smirked back. "No, I need you to listen to your mother, do your homework, and do your chores without complaining. I know she can handle everything here just fine."

Nancy beamed at him.

He turned to Charisa. His little girl was almost eighteen. In another couple of months she would be done with high school. It was hard to believe, and it made a lump stick in his throat. "Charisa, I want you to know I'm…I'm proud of you. I want you to go to University in the fall, no matter what happens."

Charisa did exactly what he had been expecting; she looked pleased, then startled, and then she objected. "But that's in Creta! How am I supposed to help with the war if I'm all the way in another country?"

_That's my girl. _Breda smiled. "Because it's rare to get into a program like the law program at the University in Pylos. Amestris is going to need minds like yours when this is over, however it goes. Maybe more if things go badly. I won't let you miss that opportunity."

"Is it an order?" Charisa looked at him with an odd expression.

"Only if it has to be," Breda said with a small smile. "I'll feel better knowing you're somewhere safe too."

"Hey, what about me?" Niam asked, looking offended. Breda could tell he was faking. "You're not worried about me?"

"Nah," Breda grinned, taking another bite. "You've got your Mom to protect you. The Drachmans would be crazy to mess with her." He still planned to do his damndest to make sure the Drachmans never got anywhere near Central. He was the brains behind the whole operation. No pressure, right?

Momentary quiet fell during the rest of dinner as people focused on eating and their own thoughts. Breda knew Nancy was worried. The last time he had been out on a warfront personally had been the Xing War years ago; back when they were engaged. She had worried about him then; fretting over silly little things before he left; the creases in his uniform, and whether he had packed enough socks.

Tonight he knew because she didn't say a single word when he took seconds on the chocolate almond cheesecake drizzled with caramel that she had made for dessert. She didn't scold, or look disapproving; she just watched him.

After dinner they spend more family time in the living room playing a game until Charisa went to take a bath before bed and Niam headed up to his room to finish some homework due the next morning.

Breda put his arm around his wife as they sat on the couch in the quiet; grateful for the time alone. "I'm coming back," he teased gently, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "You don't have to treat me like this is my last meal."

"Well even if it was your last here, you'll have plenty of military rations to look forward to," Nancy replied with a weak smile.

"Honey, I'll survive a thousand meals of lousy military food if it means coming home to your cooking," Breda chuckled. "Last time I went to war you spent the entire week before hand pestering me about everything I ate; like it would make a difference."

Nancy through her arms around him and hugged him tight. "I don't care if you're big as a house. Just come back to me alive."

"Can I get that in writing?" Breda joked, grinning mischievously.

Nancy snorted. "That was _not_ an endorsement of unhealthy habits."

"I know." Breda hugged her back with equal ferocity. "I'm the brains. I'm not going to be on the front lines if I can get away with it, and I'm going to do everything I can to protect everything we've built. Then I'm going to come home again when we're all safe."

Nancy sniffed, and Breda couldn't see her face, but he was sure there were tears in her eyes. "Good. When you do, I'll have the best meal you've ever tasted waiting."

Breda smiled. "I can't wait."


	5. Chapter 5

**March 15****th****, 1963  
**

Dawn came foggy, with a chill in the air that left everything damp in minutes. Not that it mattered to the sun that couldn't reach through the mist. The military trains in the station stood ready to go; loading having begun late the night before. The last thing on board was the men. All up and down the platforms, soldiers – mostly ranking staff and alchemists on this trip – said goodbye to loved ones.

One spot on the platform was, Edward wasn't surprised, particularly crowded, and that was the one right around him, where nearly every member of the Elric family had turned out because they were either leaving or there to say goodbyes and give last heartfelt hugs and kisses. It was a small mass of beloved chaos that made him feel like he might lose control of his emotions right there on the platform as he hugged everyone who was staying behind. It was a strange goodbye, given he, Al, Winry, all three of his grown kids, Will, and Franz, were getting on the train. Tore was there too, on the peripheral. Ed kept his arm around Winry as they said goodbye to Elicia, Gracia, Alyse, and the little ones.

"It feels weird not to be leaving you and the kids behind," he admitted to Winry when the group goodbye was over and couples had split off for their own personal final words. "Good…but weird."

Winry smiled and leaned against his side. "Well could you really expect any differently from kids we raised?"

Ed couldn't help it; he laughed. It was strained, perhaps a need for relief of other emotions, but it would do for now. "No, I couldn't." Not from anyone in their family. And that, he thought, was why Drachma didn't stand a chance.

* * *

"Come home safe," Elicia whispered in Alphonse's ear as she hugged him tightly.

Al nodded, holding her close against him. "I will," he promised. He refused to break a promise, and that was one he would keep. He would not consider otherwise. This was a mission he _would not_ fail. "They'll regret every coming anywhere near Amestris… or you."

Elicia shuddered in his arms. "Just don't get yourself killed. It's not worth revenge, or justice, if I lose you."

She knew why he was really going, aside from the usual good reasons. "Yes ma'am," he smiled teasingly, hoping she didn't realize just what she was asking of him. Al had no intention of dying, but nor did he have any intention of letting Tamirov leave Amestris alive. The nightmares would end. The memories would finally be able to fade. Elicia would be safe, and finally, Al would stop feeling like he had failed his wife.

* * *

Nearby a similar scene played out with Alphonse's son.

"I'll come back to you, I promise," Will whispered, cradling Ren close. "I'll be home for the baby."

Ren surprised him as she straightened up, looking up at him with a sadly accepting expression. She shook her head. "Don't make that promise, Will. I have a feeling that this won't be a short war. You have duties you've taken on; duties to country that must come before family."

The Imperial princess would say that, wouldn't she? "Well I'll try then," he amended regretfully, his hand resting gently on the subtle swell of her stomach. "I hate leaving you alone right now."

"Mommy's not alone!" Minxia replied, tugging firmly on his pants leg. When Will looked down she had a stubborn pout on her adorable little face.

Will couldn't help chuckling. He let go of Ren and picked up his daughter, giving her a big hug. "You're right of course," he kissed her cheek. "You take care of Mommy all right? She's going to need your help around the house."

Minxia giggled and kissed him back. "I'm a big girl. I can handle it," she grinned, before her expression turned more serious. "You'll be okay, right Daddy?"

"Of course I will," Will assured her. "We'll go teach these guys a lesson in playing nice and then I'll be home again."

"You go tell them to be nice," Minxia smiled and wrapped her little arms around his neck.

Will fought the tears in his eyes as he gave her another squeeze before putting his daughter down. "I'll make sure to let them know." He gave Ren one more kiss before he picked up his bag and forced himself to head for the train. He wasn't used to being anywhere without Ren anymore. It seemed wrong to be going off without her. But then, he reminded himself, this wasn't an adventure. This was a war, and war was business. All he could do was make sure it never came anywhere near his family.

* * *

Ethan was beginning to wonder if Lia would let go of him; or if he would be able to let go of her. He remained tightly in a warm embrace, kissing her passionately until breathing became an absolute necessity.

"When you get back I'm locking the bedroom door and never letting you out," Lia commented as she stepped back reluctantly.

"It would be pretty hard for us to make a living if we never left the bedroom," Ethan grinned, "Not that I'm entirely opposed to the idea."

"Well all right, but just as long as it takes to get results," Lia kissed him again, slower and more tenderly this time.

Ethan's fingers tangled loosely with her hair. "Deal."

Lia smiled sadly. "You make sure you rest, okay? Get enough to eat. Keep on warm, dry socks."

"Practicing mothering already?" Ethan smirked back. "I'll take care of myself, I promise. Believe it or not I really don't want to get really sick again, probably more than you don't want me to."

"Never underestimate a woman's protective instincts," Lia countered. "Be safe, be careful, and do what you do best. I know a lot of people are going to be grateful you're there to take care of them."

Ethan nodded. That was why he was going. "I'll make sure they know they have you to thank."

"Me?" Lia looked confused. "What for?"

Ethan hugged her just one last time. "For sharing me."

* * *

Tore swallowed his pride. He might not have another chance. As he watched General Breda walk away from his family, he screwed up his nerve and walked in their direction. He was halfway there through the crowd when they turned to leave. Damn it! "Charisa, wait!" She froze and turned around. Feeling momentary relief, Tore caught up.

She looked lovely this morning, in a knee-length sage green skirt and a cream colored blouse. Her long red hair was down, the misty weather making it curl a little more along the edges. She turned briefly when her mother said something Tore couldn't hear with the ambient noise, then she waited as Mrs. Breda and Niam kept walking.

Tore came to a stop just a few feet from her, and there his tongue failed him. He looked at her for several seconds, simply drinking in the sight of her.

Charisa shifted from one foot to the other, then sighed and stepped forward. "Don't get yourself killed, all right?"

That shook Tore out of his momentary reverie. "Well I wasn't planning to," he replied, feeling oddly disgruntled. "Is… is that all you've got to say to me?"

"Were you expecting more?" She asked. It wasn't a mean tone, but she looked like she was surprised he really had. "Expecting me to fall into your arms, cry, and confess my undying love maybe?" Her tone was calm, not mocking.

"All right," Tore scowled. "Enough, I get the picture. I just… I couldn't leave without talking to you."

"In case we never see each other again?"

Tore just nodded. That was exactly what he was afraid of. Their friendship was still a little cool, a little distant. What romance there had been seemed dead as a rat in a trap.

Charisa's expression softened. "So make sure you come back, so we can talk some more." She stepped forward and opened her arms just a little. "You want a hug or not?"

Tore blinked, then jerked forward, giving her a hug that was momentarily awkward, then friendlier, though he couldn't help it tightening into a squeeze before he let go. "I'll see you again."

"You'd better." Charisa replied, looking slightly startled by the strength of his hug. "If you make me worry about you I'll never forgive you." Then her own grip tightened a bit more.

Tore couldn't help smiling just a little as he stepped back. The train whistle was blowing a five minute warning. "Careful, Miss Breda, people might think you care."

Charisa shook her head. "Don't turn into an ass out there either," she countered with a brief half-smile. "The last time you went away I barely recognized you when you came back." She hesitated. "Don't change on me anymore, okay? I mean…"

She really did still care. Then why the cold shoulder half the time? Tore's smile softened. "Knock them dead in Creta, Charisa. Show them what the best Amestris has to offer can do. You do what you need to, I'll do what I need to. I'll see you when it's over." Then he turned before he said anything else he might regret, leaving her looking stunned on the platform. His stomach flipped. _Don't read too much into it, Closson. Just be grateful she's still a friend. _Still, maybe after the war, maybe there was hope.

* * *

Cal Fischer felt more than a little lonely as he watched everyone around him hugging their friends and family goodbye. Most everyone he was friends with was getting on the train. Those goodbyes would be said when the units split up, and they wouldn't be heartfelt and full of hugs.

He'd called his mother last night. She had thanked him for the recent check and, as she had every day since he'd sent the first one, assured him she was fine on her own but she loved him for thinking of her. Cal knew better. His mother would never have made it on her own. His father's death had been all that saved her from an early grave. At least, that was Cal's firm conviction. She was weak, often ill, and it had taken over a decade before she was willing to say even a single word against the man who had abused her even before they were wed.  
The families on the platform were so different from his own; he couldn't help but feel envious. It was an emotion he had gotten used to. He saw the Mustangs a dozen yards down the line; Flame, Firebrand and – to his surprise – Riza Mustang all had travel bags. Elena and the three children were giving them all hugs.

The Bredas had already said their goodbyes and the General vanished. Cal smirked briefly as he saw what he bet was an interesting exchange between Tore and Charisa Breda. He'd heard they were friends – formerly dating. What he wouldn't have given to be a bug on them somewhere.

The Elrics were impossible to miss. Sara and Franz were giving their children multiple goodbye hugs. The kids looked concerned. Will's daughter less so; but then her mother was staying. They were a big mob of hugs, kisses, and backslaps. Cal had been a bit surprised when he found out Aldon and Ethan were both coming. Aldon especially. Mrs. Elric seemed to be a more logical choice to him, oddly enough, than Sara's peace-loving middle brother. Ethan, at least, was an alchemist and a doctor.

She was halfway between the Elrics and himself when Cal realized that Alyse had detached herself from her family and was crossing the rapidly emptying platform. The train was whistling its warning. He didn't have much time. But he watched her cross the distance, eyes fixed on him so he knew he could not pretend he wasn't her goal.

Alyse stopped at a polite distance. Close, but not intimate. "Take care of yourself, Cal," she offered him a sad, friendly smile. "Not that I really expect you to, but it would be nice."

A lopsided smile crossed Cal's face. "Not much confidence in me, huh?"

"Not much evidence to the contrary," Alyse replied, looking up at him. He could see her green eyes under those long, dark lashes. "You're a good friend and… well now that we're actually talking I'd hate to see you on the casualties list. So take care."

Cal's smile didn't fade. "That an order?" He liked being on speaking terms with Alyse, however awkward it felt a lot of the time. She was a lot easier to be around now… though he wasn't sure if that was cause for relief or concern. Her enjoyment of jazz, and other things he had never thought she might enjoy that he did happen to, helped.

"If that's what it takes," Alyse chuckled with some amusement, though it seemed subdued. Her expression sobered. "I… it feels so strange to be left behind."

That wasn't what he'd expected. "Your alchemical talents aren't combative," he replied, hoping she wasn't offended. "Besides, you offer something just as important as the rest of us."

"Oh? What's that?"

"You give us something to look forward to when we get back," Cal grinned.

He was rewarded with a startled expression and then another smile. "I'll have to make sure it's quite the homecoming party."

Perhaps it was better she seemed to have missed the unintentional double entendre. Cal kept smiling. "I look forward to it. Frankly, as long as I come home with all three of my remaining limbs I'll consider this war better than the last one."

Maybe that had been the wrong thing to say. Worry flickered across Alyse's face; the smile vanished. "Don't joke, Cal."

"Sorry," he apologized. "Morbid sense of humor."

"It's all right, I'm used to it." She looked like she wanted to say something else, but after a few moments he knew she wasn't going to.

"I should go," Cal hefted his rucksack over his shoulder and gave her a jaunty salute. "Keep a spot open for me at the table at the club, kiddo." He turned to go –  
-Only to feel something slam into his back, arms wrapped around his chest! Cal froze. "I…I will," Alyse replied softly. "You owe me a drink when you get back though."

Cal smiled, wishing he could see her face. He could feel it pressed against his back; her face, her arms…her chest. She felt warm. "You got it."

Alyse let go then, and when Cal turned around she was walking briskly back towards her family, who didn't seem to have noticed her brief absence in the press of things. Those leaving were already on the train.

The last warning whistle sounded and Cal hurried to the steps! A thought jolted him as he stepped onto the train. _She didn't call me Calvin. _

* * *

"Are you all right?" Nancy Breda asked her daughter as Charisa got into the front seat and buckled in. "What did Terrence have to say?"

Charisa didn't seem to hear her for a moment. Then she shook herself slightly and looked at Nancy. "He just wanted to say goodbye and wish me good luck at the University in the fall."

"Oh is that all?" Nancy didn't try and hint at anything, but if she knew the boy, that was hardly everything.

"Yes, Mom, that was all," Charisa replied, looking slightly irritated. "All we did was say goodbye and good luck. I don't want him to die out there, no matter what he did before."

"Did I ask?" Nancy smiled, but let the subject drop. No, she was fairly certain her daughter really didn't have anything more than maybe a passing interest in dating her childhood friend again, if that. Heymans would certainly be happy if she didn't. "No one wants to see anyone die in this war."

"I don't like Dad going off on his own," Charisa admitted.

"He's hardly alone," Nancy assured her daughter. So mature, it was hard to remember sometimes that Charisa wasn't an adult already. "He has his entire staff to look after him. You know Falman and Feury especially will take care of him."

Charisa smiled weakly. "When you say it that way it sounds more like they'll be having a party at every opportunity."

"Oh Sciezka and Marina will be writing to scold at every opportunity I'm sure," Nancy replied. "Though the truth is I'm nervous too. I barely slept during the Xing War, and we weren't even married then. I was so relieved he couldn't go to Aerugo."

"But Dad came home from the Xing War fine right?" Niam asked, not sounding particularly concerned. Nancy knew he was, but Niam rarely showed it. He was more practical about things he couldn't do anything about, and too young to be allowed to enlist – a fact that Nancy was eternally grateful for!

Nancy nodded. "Oh he was just fine. Almost in better condition than when he left," she admitted with a small chuckle. It had been such a short time, in retrospect, though it had felt like forever.

Next to her, Charisa seemed to relax. "I'm glad. I still feel guilty leaving for Creta before everyone's home, if it happens that way. It doesn't seem right."

"It's what your father wants, and I'm sure it's what your friends would tell you to do too," Nancy added, knowing that was the case with some of them already. "We aren't all fighters, sweetheart. Still, in the end it's your choice."

"I know," Charisa sighed. "That's what makes it so difficult."

Given how normally decisive Charisa was, it was a sure sign of how hard this was on her. Nancy let it be for a while, and no one else spoke up. Nancy was sure Charisa would end up going. Common sense had always been one of her daughter's strongest traits. Charisa wanted to study law and get involved with the government. She would see that through no matter what.

Nancy just hoped that in the end Heymans would still be with them to see her graduate.

* * *

"You look lonely," Edward commented to Aldon when he found his son standing alone in the observation car once he and Winry had gotten their things stowed. Ed loved rank; it got them a private berth.

Aldon smiled. "It would have been nice to give the kids and Cassie another goodbye. I called her last night, but it's not the same."

"It isn't," Ed agreed. "So, you ready for this?"

"Not a bit," Aldon admitted without hesitation. "But then, I'm not a soldier am I? But I've got to help, and I've got to know if any of our friends made it out of Briggs. Ollie and Kit were still living in the Fort, and other friends of ours. They could be dead, or captured, or hiding out in the bowls of Briggs. You could hide people down in the depths for months if you had to." A few were already reported to be doing just that.

Ed nodded, sympathetic to his son's plight. Ollie had been his best friend for years and he knew they still talked regularly. "Intelligence will hear something eventually. Anyone else hiding out at Briggs will have the wherewithal to get out, or manage to send a message." If anything else, he knew that about the men and woman who populated Briggs. They were a hearty lot; tough to beat, and tougher to keep down for long.

Aldon nodded. "You're right. Ollie knows that place almost as well as he knows his wife."

"A terrifying prospect," Ed couldn't help smirking. Still, it seemed an apt description. It definitely made the point. "So you think their chances are good?"

"I think Ollie wouldn't let anything happen to Kit or the kids," Aldon replied. "I've never been so grateful that Resembool is so far away from the north."

Ed nodded. Cassie and the boys would be safe there for a good long time. "There's no place safer and more remote save even more obscure towns," he agreed. "Do you know where Breda's got your unit stationed to start?"

Aldon nodded. "Well, as engineers we're going to be critical in building the initial barriers, but then we'll be pulled back immediately to let the soldiers and the alchemists do their thing."

"Hiding behind us?" Ed looked at his son skeptically, then grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Good. That's exactly where I want you."

Aldon chuckled. "Grabbing the glory for yourself, Dad?"

Ed shook his head. "Something much more important; making sure my grandsons still have a father when this is over."

For a moment, Aldon looked slightly pale, and Ed got a much better idea of just how unsure of his position Aldon was. This was a big leap. The last war, he'd been safe in Resembool with Cassie and Coran, Reichart just on the way and then a baby. Now he had a lot more to protect, and a lot more to lose.

Ed smiled reassuringly. "You'll be fine."

"Right," Aldon nodded. "Sure. We all will." He took a deep breath. "I think I'm going to go find Sara and Ethan. They were saying something about breakfast and a game of cards."

"Sounds good," Ed smiled. "I should check in with Breda." He moved on down the car towards the end. The command car was another two down the line. He paused at the end and turned. Aldon was still staring out the window, one hand fiddling absently with the wedding band on his finger. Yeah, it was tough.

_Winry, Sara, Aldon, and Ethan. All of us on this mission. Al, Will, Franz. It seems like an unbeatable team when you add in the rest of us. _It still seemed surreal that after so long he was going back to war with Roy, Armstrong, Breda, Falman, and Feury too. _No matter what it takes; I'll do whatever I have to to make sure we all come back, and have a home to come back to. _

**March 18****th****, 1963**

The trip felt kind of surreal, Tore thought, as he watched the land roll past for the first two days. They had been in such a flurry of action in Central; training, packing, getting ready to go. Yet it was still four days by train to North City, six if they could have pushed all the way to Briggs. Tore remembered the trip to Petrayevka, though it seemed a lifetime ago. He wasn't the same kid who had gone with the Elrics on that diplomatic mission. He was a better alchemist now, a better fighter. He had experience with surviving on his own in the wilds as well as the cities.

Now, he was a State Alchemist. That had to mean something too. Though this was not in a million years how he had expected to make his next trip northward. "Some first out of town assignment," he muttered to himself.

"A real humdinger all right," the Whitewater Alchemist chuckled as he dropped down next to him on the seat. "Gotta love the scenery, don't you? Nothing but dead trees and rolling rock hills as far as the eye can see, and we haven't even hit the real foothills yet."

"Thrilling," Tore snickered. "What do you do for fun on these trips once the scenery bores you to tears?"

"Soldiers? Well, drink, swear, play cards," Fischer replied flippantly. "At least when the brass won't bitch about it," he added with a wink. "Gossip and pick on each other comes next."

"I'm loving the military already," Tore retorted, but he grinned anyway. "It sounds like high school."

"Except there's not enough hot girls," Fischer replied with a regretful sigh. "Speaking of,

you were looking pretty cozy with Charisa Breda before we left," he grinned. "I hear you two used to be a hot item."

"You heard right; _used to be,"_ Tore replied with a shrug. "We went out for a few months until I headed out on my own for a while. I asked her to come with me; she refused. I'm lucky she's talking to me now." At least that last goodbye had made him feel that all his hard work making it up to her hadn't gone unnoticed. Charisa still cared, even if she was more guarded. And that last was really his fault.

Fischer winced. "Sounds painfully familiar. Still there must be something there to be worth keeping up the friendship."

"We were best friends for five years. I'd say it's worth it," Tore sniped. "So, turnabout; I noticed you were looking pretty cozy with Alyse Elric at the train station."

He had caught Cal Fischer off guard; a rare feat. He looked momentarily nonplused. "She's a friend."

"An ex-girlfriend," Tore countered. Hey, Cal had been getting on to him about Charisa, it was a fair comeback. "Or so I hear. Though she seems more interested in you than Charisa is in me."

He watched Fischer's face, but saw none of the subtle play of emotions he got off most people even when they tried to hide their emotions. No, Cal's face went dead still. "Good girls aren't my type," he finally responded. Then he seemed to return to life, shrugging and leaning back. "I prefer women with experience. They're more fitting for a man of the world," he smirked as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Tore thought back to the conversation with Lilah, and the little demonstration of what _experience _could do. Still… he shrugged again. "I wouldn't know."

Cal almost choked on the cigarette he had just put to his mouth. "Geez man, all that time on your own. Don't tell me you-"

"Really would rather not have it blathered all over the train," Tore cut him off with a sharp look.

Cal shook himself, took a drag, exhaled, and nodded. "Right, of course. That's really not something you want everyone around here to know though. Not if you want any respect from the grunts. Most of the alchemists won't care."

A plus to being an alchemist, Tore supposed. "I'm seventeen, what are they expecting?"

"What they were all doing at seventeen probably," Cal said matter-of-factly. "Just don't tell me you've never had a drink either."

"Oh no worries on that one," Tore smirked. "If it wouldn't get me in trouble I'd demonstrate that in a heartbeat." The one thing he missed from his travels was being able to just walk in somewhere and order a beer. He didn't want to get drop-down drunk, but he missed the freedom to just have a drink when he felt like it. "Give me a few weeks." He was almost eighteen for real. Then he'd be free to do things the way he liked; within the limits of what the military would accept. He was good with that though.

"Oh I'll definitely make sure we have a hell of a bash for _your_ birthday," Cal laughed. "I bet it'll be interesting."

"Put that thing out or move to the back, Whitewater," Lyssandra Fines stepped into the car, looked around, and glowered.

Cal looked utterly un-contrite as he nodded. "Yes ma'am." He stood up. "Care to continue this little chat somewhere else?"

"No thanks," Tore shook his head. He really didn't feel like having his lack of a love life dissected anymore at the moment, not even by someone he was quickly coming to like hanging out with. The more he learned about Fischer, the more he realized they had in common. It helped that the older alchemist didn't really treat him like a kid; more like a younger colleague or brother. He could live with that.

"Suit yourself," Cal sauntered down the car. There was an open area between it and the baggage cars that took up a good chunk of the back of the train; hauling military supplies mostly. It had rails, and Tore had seen more than a few soldiers come in and out from smoking. It was the only place on the train they wouldn't get yelled at for it since it was too chilly to comfortably open windows.

Tore looked back out the window, considering all he had just heard. Despite the joking manner, Cal Fischer had just given him a lot of insight into military life outside of Central Headquarters. He would be wise to keep those perspectives in mind.

**March 20****th****, 1963**

In a couple of hours they would be in North City. From what they had been told, they would reach it barely a day ahead of the retreating Amestrians fleeing the Drachmans pushing southward. That left very little time to set up a full defensive line. North City denizens were being evacuated, but other than pregnant women, the elderly or infirm, and small children, most everyone else had refused to leave. Or so Ed heard. They had no intention of leaving their homes to the Drachmans!

Still, it would be difficult to stop the rolling Drachman army. Daily reports made it clear that Drachma was putting everything it had into the invasion. Hundreds of thousands of troops poured into Briggs, filling every spare space to bursting. Surviving Amestrians inside were prisoners of war, or gone into hiding. The top military rankers were all dead. There had been no attempts to hold them for hostage. Anyone they caught had died. The Drachmans had even been so kind as to send a full published _list_ of the dead to Central Headquarters! There were a couple of officers not on it, but Ed was sure that meant they were probably being hunted down. Whatever the case, if the Drachmans used the full weight of their military, than Amestris was about to be outnumbered seven to one, not even taking into account this new group of Drachman alchemists.

Other news was more encouraging. Xing had promised to send a contingent of alchemists with all speed, with the possibility of troops later. Regular troops would take longer to mobilize across so great a distance. Still, help would be weeks in coming. Creta and Aerugo were also willing to consider sending in assistance, though negotiations were still under way. Aerugo was reluctant, but obviously in no position to press the issue too badly. Or so Edward hoped. The last thing Amestris needed was a full blown two-front war.

Edward found Alphonse standing in the observation car after lunch. The windows gave a great view of the vast northern mountains, and as the train came around a bend, they got a good view of North City itself way in the distance before another hill blocked it. "We're almost there," Ed commented as he joined Al at the window.

Al nodded and looked over at him. "Into the fray again, right Brother?"

It gave Ed a moment of pause. It had been a long time since Al just called him _Brother._ It happened so rarely now. He nodded, smiling slightly. "Yep, here we go again."

"You know," Al sighed as he looked out at the mountains in the distance, "When we were kids this was so easy."

"What do you mean?" Ed asked.

Al shrugged. "If people we knew were going to be hurt, we just charged in and defended them. We didn't worry about ourselves."

"We didn't have as many people to worry about," Ed pointed out with a small, ironic smirk. "So is it better to have more to worry about saving and more worth saving?" He knew he wouldn't trade everything they had gained for anything else in the world.

"Yeah," Al chuckled. "It is."

"Then let's do it," Edward held out his fist. "After all, we're unbeatable right?"

Al looked down at his hand. Then he laughed and did the same; matching hand to hand. "Totally."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Happy Holidays to all my readers, whichever wonderful reason you choose to celebrate in the winter season! And if you're buried under snow (like I am about to be and most of my friends are) stay warm and safe!


	6. Chapter 6

**March 22****nd****, 1963**

Cutting it close didn't even begin to cover it. Roy Mustang stood on the hastily erected walls that ran outside the north walls of North City, made by a combination of engineers and alchemists alike. It would get shelled into nothing in hours, but it was the best that could be done on less than twenty-four hours notice; a combination of wood and dirt mostly, with machine gun nests as turrets in places.

Roy's unit of alchemists had been placed on the far left of the potential battlefield, and from the top of the wall he could see the Drachman campfires in the darkness. It might have been a beautiful sight; hundreds of campfires – thousands he suspected – rolling off into the distance like a thousand golden flickering stars. Instead, they made his blood run cold at the thought of the sheer number of soldiers sitting around those fires. "What do you think?"

"I think our defense is going to be a street-by-street city fight within a week if we aren't careful," Riza replied next to him, bundled up in a long black coat almost identical to the one Roy wore over his uniform which – he refused to admit he found it surprising – actually fit when he had pulled it out of the closet.

Roy nodded. "So we can't let them get that far. If they take the city we've lost our best anchor point for a blockade and an offensive push in the other direction." He felt comforted by the presence of Riza beside him holding a well-polished, loaded, alchemically enhanced and strengthened, rifle. It helped that his wife just looked damned sexy with weaponry! He was glad she had come with him.

"It seems we have no choice but to stop them… Sir."

Roy turned around and, in the dim light of the moon peeking through a cloud he saw a small smirk on Riza's lips. "What was that…_Lieutenant_?"

"Sorry, old habit." Riza moved closer and Roy put his arm around her shoulders, sharing body heat as well as a quiet moment. Below them behind the wall, soldiers slept wrapped up in sleeping bags, or back inside the walls.

"Well stop it," Roy replied affectionately. "It's attractive."

"That's a problem?" Riza asked with one slender eyebrow elegantly arched.

Roy smirked. "Of course it is. It's too cold up here to get frisky."

"Thank goodness," Riza snorted softly. "It's also rather public."

They stood for a while in companionable silence, waiting as the world held its breath. Below them, soldiers began to awaken, stirred by their commanding officers. Roy wasn't particularly worried about his alchemists. He could see them below, awake and ready almost before anyone else; Byrnes, Chambers, Flax and Tracker, all State Alchemists of some standing, and an assignment he found interesting but amusing, Russell Tringham; the once Edward Elric impersonator, and eldest son of Nash Tringham. Apparently both Kane and Edward had been sure they would get along well together. Snide banter aside, they did.

The retreating Amestrians had hurried right past the wall through the two openings – set to the sides of the main city gate, not directly in front – late into the evening the night before. The survivors – only seventy percent of those sent north first – were now safely behind the wall getting much needed rest and medical attention. Thirty percent losses and another twenty-percent injured. Roy really didn't like those numbers.

The cold nipped at the exposed skin on his face, and Roy wished he had a hot cup of coffee. Despite the coat, and Riza beside him, his joints ached. Exhaustion was held at bay however, by the thrilled anticipation he hadn't felt in years. Today, he would once more face battle; use his alchemy against an enemy. Was he a warmonger? No…well maybe a little. He didn't mind war for the right reasons, and there could be no more _right_ reason to fight than to protect his homeland; the country he had played a large part in shaping and had devoted his life to.

When he glanced back down the ladder he had climbed earlier, he saw that his unit was at the ready near the edge of the wall. _Come on out,_ Roy thought at the Drachman alchemists. _Step out where we can see what you're really made of._

The battle began just after dawn. From his vantage point, Roy could see it all laid out almost in dioramic form. The Drachman attack began dead center with utterly classic tactics that Roy would have said went out of style three decades ago… except for one thing; a line of about thirty men that walked just behind the first rank of advancing soldiers. As they began to fire, the line moved past them and ran for the wall. In the morning mist it was difficult to see what they were doing, but then the explosions started.

The wall below their feet rocked slightly and quavered as dark smoke billowed up and mixed with the white mist. "There's our target."

Riza nodded. "Alchemy?"

Roy nodded. "Definitely." There was no doubt now that they were dealing with alchemical warfare on an entirely new scale. Never before had the enemy brought alchemists in numbers against Amestris. This was a whole new scenario. "But a bullet can kill an alchemist as well as alchemy can."

In the distance, they heard return fire, and the obscuring mist only became thicker as white smoke joined it. Then there was a flash of fire that arched out across the ground, and screaming, and a jolt of lightning. From somewhere else the mist seemed to swirl until it looked almost solid, a cyclonic pillar – however small it was strong – marching towards the Drachman line. "Now those are _ours_," he chuckled, feeling a sense of pride. The enemy alchemists were pounding on the doors, but they were being met with some determined resistance!

The fighting went on for nearly half an hour before the Drachmans did what Roy had been waiting for. The units waiting behind in apparent readiness attempted to fold around the ends of the line, splitting and coming half and half – one towards the other end and one toward his. "Ready below!" Roy bellowed down to the others.

Down below, all of his alchemists signaled an affirmative. They were ready. Down the line, Roy saw other units, infantry and alchemist alike, getting into ready positions. The top of the wall was lined with men.

When the battle came to them, it came fast, hard, and furious. Ladders smacked against the wall, and torrents of soldiers, firing, pushed towards the entrances or around towards the outside. The Drachmans lay as much fire as they could to keep the Amestrians hidden in their foxholes and behind their dirt barricades.

"This isn't the safest place to be standing," Riza commented as she shot two men attempting to scale the wall with her usual accuracy. "May I suggest finding a better place from which to attack?"

"But the view is fabulous," Roy smirked, then sighed. "Very well." They made their way back down behind the wall, where stray bullets were unlikely to find them, and joined his men on the ground in time to take stock of the scenario. He liked what he saw. The few trees in the area seemed to have sprouted extra long roots that lashed at the Drachmans, distracting some and drawing fire from others who were panicked. Regular soldiers obviously.

"Nice," Roy smirked at the oil slick Chambers had pulled from the ground. Soldiers were slipping and sliding and firing as they backed up to find a way around the thick tarry mess, but Roy had a solution for that. "Looks like it's time to heat things up!"

With that, the oil slick burst into flames.

* * *

Tore's first combat experience was not what he had expected. Well, at first it was; sending alchemical responses back at the Drachman soldiers and alchemists from a safe distance and behind the walls. It worked until the DAs – as the Amestrian alchemists had taken to calling them in short form – slammed into the walls and started blowing holes in them! None had broken through yet, but they were only dirt barricades. They would fail eventually.

"What do you say we give them something else to think about?" Fischer smirked as he dropped down next to him, kneeling.

"What do you have in mind?" Tore asked.

"I thought we might liven things up," Cal Fischer's infectious grin was downright cocky; a little surprising in the middle of battle.

All Tore felt was anxiety and heightened awareness. He nodded. "I'm in. What's the plan?"

"I soak the outside of the barricade; you turn it into the world's first electric falls."

"I knew I liked the way you think," Tore smirked back.

"I've got you," Kieleigh grinned grimly as she joined them. "A few bombs on the other side and they'll back up even faster." Her specialty was making things explode; all sorts of things. Tore had seen her make broccoli into an explosive once.

Their team proved to work as well as they had been assigned to. While the Emerald Alchemist and Polansky covered them, Tore and Cal made their way to the top of the wall, ducking behind makeshift crenellations. The idea worked perfectly as Whitewater practically rung water out of the sky, causing a cloudburst on only one side of the wall. Tore was glad for the gloves he had finally gotten made; it simplified his life extremely. He slammed his palms against the wall, and an electrical current began to run across the water flowing down the other side; the dirt wall functioning as an excellent piece of insulation as Tore focused on keeping the current running _only_ where they wanted it!

The screams on the other side told him it was working. "That'll keep them off the wall," he grinned, focusing, trying not to exhaust himself too quickly.

"And this'll keep them moving back" Kieleigh flashed a pretty smile, eyes grinning from behind a lock of her tightly curly brown hair as she hefted what looked like lumps of clay out of the ground over the wall. They ignited in mid air and rained down in pieces on the Drachmans as they exploded.

Tore couldn't help a short laugh. He heard people scrambling on the other side, and more traditional gunfire returned.

"Good work, keep it up!" Fines called at one point.

That was all well and good, for the first fifteen minutes. After an hour, Tore was feeling the strain of keeping up long-term transmutations. He and Cal took breaks, but only short ones. The Drachmans had something the Amestrians didn't – numbers – and they didn't seem to mind a larger number of losses.

"Damn they're patriotic as well as stupid," Cal grimaced as they heard another person scream as they slammed into the electrified wall.

Tore nodded, sweating heavily now. He was glad alchemists were allotted a ration-and-a-half compared to the usual soldiers. He was going to devour every bit of it when today was over!

When the wall blew up underneath him, he wondered as he fell if he would ever get the chance. For a moment, the world moved in slow motion as a rumbling roar ripped through the air and the wall simply exploded, sending him and Cal and Kieleigh and everyone else on it flying! Flailing, Tore gasped as all the air rushed from his lungs on impact. Another roar made him wonder if he was about to be smothered, when the skies opened up with an icy torrential downpour – a spring storm. Suddenly soaked, Tore's hearing returned a moment later; the sound of screaming men clashing, gunfire and hand to hand. The first sign that the fighting had swarmed around him was two men fighting directly over top of him! They shoved and stabbed and staggered on. _Shit!_ Stumbling to his feet, Tore found himself in a pressing mass of people. On all sides, slipping, sliding and _dying_. He was nearly knocked off his feet by a falling soldier. He couldn't even tell which side – the man was covered in mud and dark, thick blood. Tore staggered backwards, avoiding the body at the last moment. The shocked face that stared blindly up, horrified and unseeing, burned into his mind.

Tore had never seen a dead man up close. His stomach flopped and he turned away –

- In time to face the oncoming Drachman, rushing at him with bayonet fixed! _Wow these guys are old fashioned. _Tore moved with the reflexes he'd been taught, coming up under and hauling the man off his feet, tossing him using his own momentum. Then Tore spun and looked, hoping to find the rest of his unit. Where was Fischer, Fines? Where was Kieleigh?! Polansky?

A spout of water to his left told him where Fischer was – in his element apparently! Tore tried to shove through the fighting in that direction, sending bolts of electrical power into any Drachman who got in his way. Really the worst they would be, he suspected, was knocked unconscious for a few minutes or hours. He didn't have time to stop and check how many were dead.

He hadn't seen the men who died in Tamirov's lab either. Tore tried not to think of how many men he had already killed today.

"Look out!"

The shout gave Tore only enough time to look up before he saw what looked like a canon ball on fire arch into the air, exploding above their heads, shards flying. It was only instinct that sent him diving for the ground, face first into the muck.

Something slammed into him, and for a moment Tore couldn't breathe; pressed down into the quickly forming mud. Struggling, he pulled his face free of the sucking glop and gulped down air! What had landed on top of him? As the battle continued, he rolled over and tried to shove it off him –

- To find himself staring once more into the wide-eyed stare of a dead man; this one a young soldier, probably little older than himself with blond hair, green eyes, a slightly crooked nose, and blood seeping out of his mouth. Eyes vacant.

There was a corpse on top of him_. Ohhh….man!_ Tore tried to shove him off, but they were pinned by the remains of what looked like a truck door! He shoved, struggled. "Get this thing off me!" Panic welled inside him. This was it. This was gross. He was trapped! Trapped under a dead guy!

Palms slammed together and he shoved, using all the electrical current he could draw to pulse and push the body – now jerking spastically in a sickening mimicry of life – off of him! Sliding backwards frantically, then slipping and sliding to his feet, Tore swallowed, bile in this throat, then bent over and wretched violently. _He was dead. Really dead. He looked like…. A kid. Just another kid. Damn it. Damn it. Pull yourself together, Closson! This is not the time to fall apart! _

With a shout he uprooted himself from the spot, throwing himself into the fray. He wouldn't think. He wouldn't try. He would fight. He would fight, and he would use alchemy, and he would survive!

* * *

The first day's fight ended in a stalemate. The Drachmans retreated after dark, and the world began to quiet. Edward stared out into the dark blanket and the diffuse pinpricks of light that once more defined the Drachman army. The ground beyond the gates was still littered with the dead, though search teams were combing them for the wounded living.

_Welcome back to the battlefront. _He really should not have expected anything less. This wasn't going to be a quick war, like Xing. Not that he had fought most of that one; though he'd had it ugly enough in his own way. This would be more like Aerugo; long, drawn out, and violent. Ed wasn't sure if it was worse on home turf or not yet. He knew he'd rather have been fighting on soil that wasn't within the bounds of Amestris.

"That was ugly."

Ed turned and saw Alphonse walking toward him, mud-spattered and tired looking, but otherwise apparently unharmed. "Yeah," he nodded as he clapped his hands together and slapped them against the wall next to him. In moments it was once more straight, tall, and whole.

"Won't it just come down again tomorrow?" Al asked as he joined him.

"It'll take longer," Ed grinned. "I added a surprise."

"What's that?" Al asked.

"A foot thick iron wall in the middle of it."

Al whistled. "Yeah, that'll do it." He looked around for a moment then sighed. "It's as bad as I remember."

"You too huh?" Unlike some of the men here, for whom this was their first real combat situation, Ed didn't feel the horror he used to at the sight of true battle. He felt regret for those who died, revulsion distantly at the idea of the need for war and death, and pity for those who died at the hands of alchemists. That didn't mean he would go easy on the enemy. He had learned better a long time ago the differences between mercy, justice, and sound military tactics. They didn't always overlap. "I'm going to sleep like a rock tonight."

"Then get up and do this again tomorrow." Al did not look particularly disturbed by the thought, just regretful. "Such a waste of life."

"Blame the Drachmans," Ed snorted as he moved to the next wall and did the same thing. Tired, but he was the best alchemist for this job.

Al nodded matter-of-factly. "I do."

Well of course he did. Ed felt momentarily guilty for saying it. Al had a personal score to settle with Drachma – at least with its alchemists. Ed only hoped it didn't get in the way of his brother's common sense. Ed was saved from having to make another comment by the arrival of Roy Mustang, Alex Armstrong, and Marcus Kane. Other than a bandage on Kane's cheek, the three Generals also looked unharmed. "How'd we do, Kane?" Ed asked.

"In the battle, about as well as could be expected given our lack of preparation," Kane replied with a wry smirk. "As for the alchemists, I'd say we turned out a good show despite the enemy. Their tactics are crude, but effective. They don't seem to have the variety we do. Or at least, this group didn't."

Armstrong nodded. "It seems likely that they have also separated their alchemists into units, though possibly by individual type and strength."

"They're weapons, designed and trained for a purpose," Ed agreed, his arms crossing as he thought, though it was partially to keep warm. He had his coat on, but he could still feel muscle aches where his ports connected. "They're focused on one task. So they could well have other groups; some that are all trained to create explosives, or set things on fire."

"If they have flame alchemists I'll eat my watch," Roy snorted.

Ed couldn't help but snicker. "I'll find the salt. I mean just set things on fire; incendiaries, not real flame alchemy." He had learned the very distinct differences over the years. Some things were easy to set fire to if an alchemist had the materials.

"We did pretty well against them today," Al pointed out.

"We did, but we still barely bounced them," Kane replied, his brow furrowing slightly. "I think our variety and training will be a good thing. We're up on them in both areas, but they're still destructive."

"What were our losses?" Al asked more quietly.

"Still counting for the whole mess," Kane replied, "But only two alchemist casualties, about ten injured, though mostly superficial wounds."

"Counting yourself there, Sky Fire?" Ed chuckled, gesturing to the patch on Kane's cheek.

"This little scratch?" Kane scoffed. "No, it won't be going on the incident reports. I think we'll have enough bumps and bruises in a few days that our idea of what constitutes injury is going to toughen up against as fast as we do."

He had a point. "You're right," Ed agreed. "Let's just hope we learn and adapt faster than they do." As long as they could keep a step ahead of the Drachmans, they could turn this. Drachma had superior numbers, but Amestris, despite years of peace, had more experience as a warring nation. That lineage had not been forgotten and their military still reflected it. "Let's see how much more damage we can do to them tomorrow."

* * *

In the darkness, soldiers and alchemists sorted themselves out by the light of torches and flood lights. The wounded were being hauled off, the living accounted for, the dead identified and their bodies taken away.

Cal lit a cigarette and took a long, slow drag as he surveyed the scene. He had come through the fight a lot better than he honestly expected. He hadn't been under heavy fire in combat since the battle in Aerugo where he had lost his leg to that landmine. While he would not have admitted it to anyone, he had been anxious about how he would react when put back into that situation.

The truth: better than he had expected. He was tired, and his nerves were a bit frazzled, but he had come through unscathed, and the Drachmans hadn't advanced. It was the first time the Drachmans had been blocked or held off at all since their invasion.

He watched Lyssandra Fines as she directed some of the soldiers working on clean up detail. She looked tired, but also unharmed unless you counted being covered in mud. But then, they were all covered in the cold, wet muck. Cal couldn't wait for a shower.

Lyssandra came over to him then. "Well we all seem to have come through." Her nose wrinkled and a brief look of disgust crossed her face as the wind wafted smoke in her direction. Not that the smell of dead bodies, sweat, blood, and char was any better in Cal's opinion.

Cal nodded and grinned. "We definitely gave them something to think about. The kids were spectacular," he commented, referring to Kieleigh and Tore.

Lyssandra nodded. "Where's Shock? I haven't seen him in a bit."

"Helping with clean up over at the end of the line," Cal gestured behind him. "You want him?"

She nodded. "I'd like to do a quick debriefing and then we're turning in. This is all under control without us and it's time for a bath and a meal."

"Care for some company?" Cal flashed a rakish grin, knowing full well she'd say no.

"You offering to buy my husband a train ticket?" Lyssandra replied, true to form as she smirked back and turned. "Meet me in the barracks in fifteen minutes, Whitewater."

"We'll be there." Cal stuck the cigarette in his mouth and went to find Tore. It took him a few minutes of searching the crowds until he found the boy. It was sound that drew him to him first actually; investigating the sound of retching.

Tore was on the ground, the contents of his stomach lost in the mud, his arms wrapped around himself as he shook. With his hair wet and limp, Cal thought he looked surprisingly pathetic. Still, he felt sympathy.  
_Welcome to war, kid. _Cal crouched down next to him. "Hey, Shock, Emerald wants us for a meeting. You all right?"

Tore was shaking pretty badly he realized, and up close even in the odd light he looked pale, his eyes staring at the mud in front of him. He swallowed and tried to nod, but ended up shaking his head. "They were…. Dead…. So many dead. Eyes…staring. On top of me… then more. Bodies they… smell like…. Then they're so cold. Blood….so much blood….their blood…. On me." The words came out in little more than a whisper.

Oh great. He was cracking up. Not that Cal was surprised. His own first emergency situation as an alchemist he'd been a real mess dealing with the dead. He'd learned to be tough since then. "Hey, snap out of it," he placed a hand on Tore's shoulders. "Look at me, Shock." He made the last line sharp, an order. Out of reflexive practice, Tore's head snapped up. Good, at least his training was that far engrained in him. Cal offered him a grim smile. "You did just what you were supposed to; good work. We're still here. Now we've got a debriefing and then it's time for a bath and food. Sounds good right?" He tried to make it as conversational and normal as possible.

Tore nodded, still obviously in a state of shock that had nothing to do with his alchemist name. At least he hadn't fallen apart until after the battle. "Y-yeah I…. damn it, I can't move."  
Age be hanged; Cal reached into the pocket of his coat and fished out a small metal flask that he opened and offered. "Take a swig of this." The kid claimed he already knew how to handle his liquor; right now Cal just hoped it hadn't been bluster.

Tore looked at it, momentarily not registering; then his eyes lit up with comprehension and his hand reached out and he took it. He tipped it up, taking a long drink of the whisky inside. When he offered it back to Cal, it was definitely lighter. Tore looked back down at the ground a minute, apparently trying to gather himself. The shaking slowed at least. "Thanks," Tore finally replied. "I needed that."

"I figured," Cal smirked. "Need a hand?"

Tore shook his head and as Cal stood back he struggled to his feet, straightened his coat, and shook his head, sending water flying off his hair. He still looked pale but at least there was sensibility in his eyes again. Good. Cal hadn't figured Tore for the type to completely break after one engagement. He hadn't even been hurt as far as Cal could see. "You said Emerald wants us?"

Cal nodded. "Yeah, debriefing, then we're off duty till morning."

Tore seemed to be gathering himself still. Then he gave Cal a contemplative sideways look. "Can I have a drag?"

Cal almost choked. "I didn't think you smoked," he gasped slightly as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and caught his breath.

Tore looked disgruntled, then slightly embarrassed. "Don't make a big deal out of it, geez. Hasn't every kid tried at least one? I don't actually. I just…" his expression turned worried again. "I can't afford to fall apart right now." Then he smirked. "If you're going to lecture me about it I'll call you a hypocrite."

Cal shrugged, still a little startled. It was just a reminder though, that Tore had only lived with the Elrics; he wasn't another one of Fullmetal's kids. "No, I just wasn't expecting the question." He handed over his lit cigarette. "Hope you know what you're doing."

He watched Tore start slow, just a couple of puffs and a short drag. Then the kid closed his eyes and exhaled again. Then he opened them and handed it back. "Thanks."

"No problem," Cal shrugged. "You ready to face the world again?"

Tore nodded. "Sure thing. Let's go."

Cal turned and headed back to the barracks, Tore falling into step beside him. As they walked, he could almost watch the boy transform; drawing himself up, looking more relaxed, a little more confident. It was an act, of course, but only Cal – who had seen him at his weak moment – would really know how much of one. He'd done it himself enough. Maybe that was why he liked spending time with him; why he wanted to see Tore make it.

_Damn, I'm going soft. _


	7. Chapter 7

**April 4th, 1963 **

The Amestrians held their walls-outside-the-walls for the next week and a half. The Drachmans learned quickly that traditional warfare with added alchemists was not nearly as efficient or effective as a military with fully incorporated alchemical tactics. Still, their sheer weight of numbers and the destructive capability of their alchemists as well as traditional canon were still taken its toll on Amestrian forces. Unless something changed, they would be a sea wall against a tide of Drachmans until the sea wall broke.

Alphonse watched and fought each day with an odd feeling of disquiet, irritation, and the distance he had learned to keep on the battlefield for the sake of his own sanity. There was a critical difference between this war and Aerugo; there was no doubt whatsoever in his mind that they were in the right. It was a relief in its own way. Still, it bothered him daily that they had seen only a very small number of Drachma's alchemists. Where were the rest? What were the rest of their troops doing? _Where is Tamirov? _

"By all reports, Tamirov is still at Briggs."

Breda's voice made him turn his focus back to the meeting at hand. The strategic meetings happened daily, usually right after the end of the fighting now, or first thing in the morning if the Drachmans did not attack at dawn. There had been two days like that so far. Even the enemy had to regroup and rethink.

"Well we knew he wasn't here," Edward smirked as they looked over the maps spread out on the table in the conference room of the building they had temporarily appropriated as their battle headquarters. It was the first floor of what had once been a small office building. It was currently abandoned. "Or we'd have seen his arrogant ass out taunting us. He's got to know we're down here from the intelligence reports."

"How much do you think they know about our alchemists?" Breda asked, looking around the room at the assembled officers.

"Well it's not difficult to get reports of what some of us do," Roy pointed out, scowling down at the map of North City's defenses with his good eye. "Not after decades of news articles and stories. Some of us are near legendary."

"Not unlike yourself, Flame?" Kane smirked.

"As if our names didn't sometimes give it away either Sky Fire," Roy shot back.

Alphonse tried to remember the last time he had used the ability that fit his other name best. It had been quite a while. "They'll have looked up everything they can on us, and a lot of that isn't classified information."

"They've got to have a pretty good idea who's here. We've sent almost every alchemist we have here already," Ed added. "The sheer variety of different abilities gives them that knowledge."

Breda sighed. "And we still don't know what they've got. Intelligence has been spotty at best. They have alchemists traveling down in our direction, but we don't know what they can do. They may be more like these; planning to bombard us out of here. Or they could have a completely different set of abilities."

"They could be better alchemists," Armstrong added quietly.

"Better than us?" Roy scoffed.

"Better than what we've seen so far," Falman chimed in. He, Feury, and Franz were in the office as well. "It would make sense that while training a large number of mediocre but effective alchemists, they might also have made use of their more experienced alchemists like Tamirov. Drachma implied during your last diplomatic initiative that there were a reasonable number of alchemists already in existence within Drachma that they wanted to get working for the government. If that's the case, than it stands to reason those are the ones training these new alchemists. It also strikes me that they are likely being held in reserve from combat themselves. They're likely spread out with the units, with the most important remaining safely at Briggs."

"If they're brave enough to even come down here," Alphonse snorted.

"Bravery aside, if-"

Kane was cut off as there was a thudding knock on the conference room door.

"What is it now," Breda sighed? "Get in here!" He barked. "It had better be important."

The 1st Lieutenant that entered looked mildly terrified. "News from intelligence, Sir." He saluted sharply, and held out an envelope.

"Oh." Breda reached out and took it. Al watched as he flipped it open and read through it. He was scowling by the end. "Dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Sir!" The man vanished even faster than he had arrived.

"What's the news?" Roy asked.

Breda set the intelligence report down on the table. "They're sending two Divisions southeast from Briggs. It looks like they're going to try and connect with the railway there and make a push while we're focused here."

"But you saw that coming," Feury blurted.

Breda smirked humorlessly. "I did. Falman; I want Eastern Command apprised of the situation immediately. Tell them to mobilize. They should be ready by now." Then he looked around the room contemplatively. "Flame, Strong Arm, True Soul; ready your units. I'll send a couple others with you, and the Eastern Command alchemists should be en route today with the rest of the Eastern soldiers."

Al nodded with the others. "When do we move out?"

"In the morning," Breda replied. Then he smirked. "They'll realize soon enough that they can't outmaneuver us."

"Not with an army run by a bunch of old foxes," Ed chuckled.

"Who are you calling old, Fullmetal?" Roy asked.

"All of us," Ed snickered.

Al grinned, though he was already starting to think about the mission ahead. This was where things got interesting. They were being split. Could they keep this up on a longer front?

"I object to that," Franz laughed.

"Oh all right, mostly old foxes," Ed amended the statement.

"He's right," Feury grinned. "We've got experience and training they don't."

"Say that on the battlefield, Feury," Roy quipped. "I don't see you out there getting shot at." He was grinning though.

"That would be a waste of my talents," Feury came back with a retort almost immediately.

"All right, all right," Breda snickered. "Enough with the banter. There's a lot to be done before tomorrow here, and now with a second battlefield in the making. You all know what to do."

"If we don't by now, it's way too late," Roy agreed.

When the meeting broke up soon after, Al's mind was still spinning with the current situation, the new turn of events, and the fact that the one enemy he wanted to face most was still hiding up at Briggs, well out of reach. But how to flush him out? _By taking out the rest of his alchemists._ It was the only answer Al could come up with; making it absolutely necessary for Drachma to throw their best at them; which meant not only not losing the war, but pushing the Drachmans themselves to a point of desperation.

"Hey Al," Ed fell into step beside him. "What's got you all serious? You're scowling."

Al blinked and looked over at Ed. He shrugged and smiled. "Sorry, just thinking about everything I've got to do before we leave tomorrow."

"So get it taken care of, and then let's do something," Ed suggested with a grin. "Just hang out before you go."

"Sounds good," Al replied with a weak smile. It had been too long, and despite experience, the war was hard on both of them, even when it was a straightforward fight. Besides, he didn't want to miss out any time that might be the last time he ever saw his brother.

* * *

Edward was glad Alphonse agreed to join him for drinks and pool before he left the next day. Despite being stationed in the same city, their schedules left so little free time that Ed was lucky he got to see _Winry_ let alone Al; and he only got to see Winry because she was sleeping in the barracks with him. He wanted to spend some time with his sibling before they were separated for who knew how long.

They didn't pick the pub closest to the barracks. It was always full of the younger soldiers and any of the available younger women in town. Though Ed was beginning to suspect that the bars and restaurants might be the only places left really getting much business at the moment. The place they ended up certainly was. It was still full of soldiers, but a little further out it wasn't quite as crowded.

It was a good evening. Dinner was hot dogs slathered in chili. They went well with beer – alchemically altered in Ed's case as usual. There was an available pool table and they spend over an hour playing. They each won about half the time. "You've improved," Ed teased as he sunk a ball in the corner pocket.  
"We've played enough," Al chuckled, watching him.

As Ed set up his next shot his ears caught the conversation going on behind him. He probably wouldn't have paid attention, except that he caught the word _alchemists._

"It's their fault you know," a male voice said from the table behind him. "Even if they didn't do anything the Drachmans are blaming them. They've got stories. If their people have evidence we don't, why should we be protecting them too? If we threw them to the Drachmans maybe they'd leave."

"You think that would do it?" Someone else replied; also male. "Yeah they're blaming the alchemists, but it could be framing them right? A convenient excuse to invade."

The first guy snorted. "You believe that? Yeah sure, but how can we trust that they're even all on our side? Or we won't end up getting turned on?"

"Well, maybe," the second guy didn't sound completely convinced, but he caved. Neither of them sounded sober. "It's pretty bad evidence against them."

Ed paused, pretending to line up the shot so he could hear the entire conversation. He was feeling hot under the collar just listening, but he wasn't going to blow his top over it. He'd been expecting there to be conflicting opinions within the military as well. It wasn't like he could deny that he, Roy, Al, and Tore had blown up Tamirov's workshop, and without Drachman approval.

"So getting rid of them would solve this mess?"

"Sure it would."

"Shut up," a new voice entered the conversation; an angry one. "You have no idea what you're talking about?"

"Oh don't I, alchemist?" The first voice came back snide. "Why don't you enlighten me then? Why _did _you guys send in a force and take out that workshop?"

_Sent in…._ so it wasn't even attached to the diplomatic envoy anymore huh? Ed had wondered.

"We didn't send in anybody!" Another voice – another one Ed vaguely recognized as one of the younger State Alchemists – replied, just as angry.

This was about to get ugly. Ed could tell even before he heard chairs scrape behind him and the insults start. _Stupid kids. _He looked up at Al, who was looking past Ed's shoulder with a frown, and stood up. "Just a second."

"Ed wait-"

But of course he didn't. Ed turned and strode right in between the two alchemists standing by the bar and the – four he now saw – enlisted men getting up from their table. "Hey guys," he grinned as he got in the middle of the insults and shaking fists. "Why don't we all just settle down and relax? We're all on the same side here."

The two alchemists blinked, and paused with their mouths half-open as they recognized him, even in civvies. The enlisted – nothing ranking higher than a Sergeant if that Ed would bet – had no such foresight.

They did, however, spot the watch chain that led to Ed's pocket. "Oh yeah right. Coming to the defense of your buddies, old man?" The mouthy one sneered. He was stocky, medium built guy with short brown hair. "Or are they your kids?"

The other guys snickered.

Ed shrugged, still grinning. "No, I just don't think we should bust up this nice establishment with a private quarrel." They really didn't recognize him. This was almost amusing!

The bartender was scowling, but watching for the moment. Obviously he had figured that if anyone was going to diffuse the situation, it was Ed, though he didn't seem to recognize him just yet either.

"You're just a coward," the mouthy guy replied, moving forward until his fist was under Ed's chin. "The whole lot of you are; hiding behind walls and taking distance shots when the rest of us charge out there."

"You've obviously not been paying any attention to the battles out there," Ed replied easily. "Why don't we take this outside instead of ruining everyone else's evening? I'll even let you try and take a swing at me."

"Try and, why you-"  
_  
So much for getting them to go_ _elsewhere, _Ed thought as he ducked the guy's first swing easily and came up underneath him, sending him flying backwards into his friends with one well-placed stomach punch. "I said let's take this outside," he repeated, straightening up, his smile gone this time.

Now all four of the soldiers were glaring. The alchemists, he could tell, were still behind him at the bar, sitting back down. _They _knew better than to get into it with a superior in the room. They had probably recognized Al by now too. "You'll be sorry, old man." The mouthy guy stood up again and charged, this time with all three of his friends behind him!

It wasn't much of a fight in retrospect. Ed didn't even work up a sweat as he took the mouthy guy to the ground hard enough to daze him, send the second guy careening gut-first into a bar stool, cup-checked the third with his foot as he dropped to the ground then hefted the fourth guy on his way back up, spinning him in the air and dropping him right back on the table he'd just been sitting at hard enough to knock the air out of them.

By the time the first one started to get up, Ed was more than ready for a second round of takedowns. Then a third, and a fourth. By the fifth only two of them dared to move, and one was unconscious. By the sixth attempt only the mouthy one was still angry enough to try going after him. Finally, Ed grabbed his pool cue, bringing it around so fast that the soldier ran himself into it as it came around, shoving all the air right out of his lungs as he doubled over, gasped, and slumped to the floor. "What the hell…."

"Not that any State Alchemist couldn't do that," Ed commented as he stood over them. Not a single chair or glass in the bar was out of place or broken. The bartender looked stunned. The rest of the room looked thrilled. Ed could hear money rustling; changing hands no doubt. "But the next time a superior officer makes a _suggestion _I recommend you follow it."

Horror crossed the kid's face as he looked up at Ed blearily. "Su-superior…."

_Now_ the alchemists at the bar chuckled. "They didn't know who you were, Fullmetal, Sir."

"I figured that out, Major," Ed replied, his smile returning, though it wasn't friendly. "Or they wouldn't have been mouthing off about a mission they know nothing about. The one _I was on_. If you want to know what happened, gentlemen, all you had to do was ask." He looked back down at the soldier. His buddies were groaning and looking his direction, but none dared move. The room had gone quiet. "But no, you choose to believe the enemy; to even give them credence. Don't you think that's what they want; dissention in our ranks? Divide us, traditional soldiers versus alchemists? _Just like Drachma?_ We're better than that. Besides that, this is the military. You don't _get_ to know every piece of information that comes out of every mission anyone's sent on. Not without rank and clearance. You knew that when you signed on. If you don't believe in your orders than what the hell are you doing in the military?"

The last was a rhetorical question, and none of the guys answered it. In truth, they all looked flummoxed; especially the ringleader. Y-yes Fullmetal… Sir," he finally answered.

"Good," Ed nodded sharply once. "Then I want your names, ranks, and ID numbers. After that, I want all four of you back to the barracks immediately." He looked up at the two alchemists. "Consider yourselves warned; I don't want to see you getting involved in anything."

"Yes, Sir."

**April 5****th****, 1963**

Edward wasn't even remotely surprised when he reported to Breda and Kane the next morning to find he had been summoned specifically in regards to the previous night's altercation.

Breda shook his head. "Ed, I can't believe you got in a bar fight!"

Ed shrugged, grinning. "Technically; More like I tried to defuse a bar fight."

"By knocking the guys out," Kane pointed out.

"They _were_ attempting to beat me senseless. They got off lightly."

Now both Breda and Kane looked amused. "You reported them to their commanding officers after beating them up," Breda continued.

Ed smirked. "They're alive aren't they?"

At that, Kane just shook his head. "You know Al didn't even report this? You could have just walked away scot free."

"If he hadn't left reports on our desks last night," Breda snorted.

Ed shrugged. "If you feel I should be chastised for last night go ahead. I saw what happened, got involved, and handled the situation. As for Al, well I suppose he'd rather forget he ever saw me get in a bar fight."

"It just amazes me the things you do while stone-cold sober," Breda sighed, shaking his head.

"You're not the only one," Kane laughed. "But still, turning them in after beating them up; you're a heartless bastard sometimes, Fullmetal."

"Is that a problem, Sky Fire?" Ed asked with one eyebrow arched.

"Of course not," Kane snickered. "This is the military."

**April 17****th****, 1963**

"Leave at last!" Cal Fischer was grinning from ear to ear as he and Tore strolled out of the barracks into the falling darkness in civvies.

Tore grinned, wishing he felt as celebratory as Fischer looked. He supposed there was reason to do so. The bombardment outside the walls had ended early today, the Drachmans pulling back a couple of hours after midday. On top of that, Fines had informed them that their unit had leave tomorrow. Combat or no, they had the day off to do what they wanted. That meant that about all they could do was see what was left open in North City, but it was better than fighting.

Not fighting, now that was something to celebrate. A day free of slaughter, death, and the screams of the dying. The wall hadn't broken through again where they were, but several times the Amestrians had forayed out beyond the walls to press the Drachmans into pulling back, and on a handful of those, it had been their unit – with other alchemists – who had gone out with them. Tore had not enjoyed it. He hadn't fallen apart again though; not the way he had after the first battle. He was learning to keep a mental distance, to not think too much on what was going on and just act, do his duty, and survive. His nerves were a wreck afterwards, but he was holding his own. He tried not to think about what it meant that he was _getting used to _the battlefield. After all, Fischer was, Fullmetal, True Soul, and the more experienced alchemists seemed no different here than they did at home other than being more serious.

It was rough, but he was dealing. He desperately wanted a drink by the end of the day, but that wasn't something he could rely on. After all, drinking on duty was frowned upon. No one looked at him twice though if he bummed a cigarette off Cal, or one of the soldiers at the end of a fight. The taste was foul, but the effects were enough to get him feeling more collected and calm. "So, what do you want to do tonight?" He asked Cal with a sideways glance.

There was a mischievous look in the Whitewater Alchemist's eye when he tossed an arm jovially about Tore's shoulder. "I think we should get drunk and hit on girls. What do you say?"

Tore couldn't help laughing, even if it was regretfully. "Sounds like a blast, but where in town are they gonna let me get a drink?"

"Anywhere you want, buddy," Cal snickered. "Don't you check the calendar? Today's the seventeenth."

Tore stopped dead on his feet for a moment. He was eighteen… today. "Wait a second, how did you know today was my birthday?"

"You said it was soon, so I asked Twilight," Cal replied, looking even smugger. "So what do you say? Let's hit a bar, have a few drinks, and see if we can hook up with some pretty local women? I've seen a few around. Drinks are on me."

"Well then you bet," Tore agreed immediately. As if he'd turn down a free drink!

It didn't take them long to find the closest drinking establishment. There was a pub three streets down from the North City barracks, into which the Alchemists had been given priority sleeping space. Preferable over tenting it in this weather for sure. They had already heard that the pub had good drinks and was being frequented by most of the remaining locals brave enough to venture near the walls.

Tore refused to admit that he had been waiting for this day for almost two years. He kept his cool and tried to look relaxed as they headed inside and sat down at the bar. Still, it was nice to be able to order a beer again.

"That's all you want?" Cal asked as he ordered a whisky on the rocks.

"To start," Tore pointed out slyly. "It's been a while. I'd rather not remember this as one of my more unpleasant birthdays later."

"A wiser man than myself," Cal replied, clearly amused. "I think I was hung-over for two days after I turned eighteen."

"Must've been something, but I'm really not interested in trying that again anytime soon." Tore commented as the bartender set a beer down in front of him and grinned.

She was a pretty good looking woman, given she had to be at least forty-five. Dark blond hair was pulled up in a loose twist, and hazel eyes looked amused. "There you go cutie. And you, handsome," she winked at Cal as she poured his drink.

Tore took a sip, enjoying the smooth taste as it went down. It wasn't an epic, world-changing moment, but it was enjoyable none the less. Unsurprisingly, the place was full of off-duty soldiers. There were pool tables. A few guys in a corner were playing cards over drinks. And yes…yes… there were quite a lot of pretty women.

Around the second round of drinks Cal nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, check out the blond over there."

Tore turned. There was a bright blond with blue eyes in a tight red top and a black miniskirt over by one of the pool tables, playing with a couple of other girls, and a couple of soldiers. "She's a looker," he commented, pretty sure he knew why Cal had pointed her out.

"Yeah well, in about twenty minutes she'll be my looker," Cal grinned, set down his drink, and stood. "Time me if you like."

"I think I'll just watch," Tore replied, curious to watch Cal at work. He'd heard a lot about Fischer's exploits. Girls loved him. Well, maybe he could pick up a few tips. Tore finished his beer as he watched Cal saunter over and start chatting up the blond between rounds of pool. She seemed cool at first, but within about a minute and a half she was already openly warming up to him. To the annoyance of a couple of the other guys, Tore noticed. Maybe they noticed the watch chain in his pocket though, because none of them tried getting pushy. All enlisted men probably; and that meant they were lower ranking even if they didn't know who Cal was specifically.

After about ten minutes though, Tore got bored watching Cal flirt. He turned around and ordered another drink and tried to decide what else he wanted to do tonight, or if there was a girl he'd like to make a move on. Obviously he wasn't looking for anything serious, but he hadn't had a date since before leaving Central, and he really wouldn't mind one!

"You're looking a bit glum," the bartender smiled kindly. "Rough day?"

"Rough war," Tore replied with a smile in return.

"Well it is that I suppose," she chuckled gently, her expression saddening for a moment before recovering. "Well I for one am grateful to do what I can to help you boys, even if it is just offering a place to relax."

"Well we appreciate it," Tore assured her. He sure did.

As she moved on down the bar to deal with another customer, Tore felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Cal standing there, the blond on his arm. There was a curly haired brunette with green eyes next to them in a skin-tight black top and a green miniskirt. "Tore, this is Tina and her friend Angela."

"Hey good looking," Angela –the brunette- winked at him. "You didn't lie, Cal. Your friend's dreamy."

Tore really hoped he wasn't blushing. He chuckled instead. "Thanks for the compliment, beautiful."

"Tina told me I was all hers for the evening if I had a friend for her friend," Cal winked. "I was sure you'd be acceptable."

"More than," Angela grinned, dropping down next to Tore. "Though why hang out here? I've got drinks at my place."

"Oh, sure," Tore was _really_ glad it was dark when he saw the suggestive glint in her eyes.

Cal tossed the rest of the money and tip on the counter. "Thanks for the drinks, Kala," he smiled at the bartender. "See you again soon. Count on it."

"Oh I will," Kala picked up the money, grinning. "Have a good night boys."

As Cal moved past he gave Tore a slap of a handshake. "See you tomorrow, buddy. Happy Birthday."

There was something in his palm, Tore realized as Cal moved away. Fortunately Angela was putting on her coat as he glanced down at the small packages Cal had apparently palmed. _Now_ he was blushing! _Does he really think I'll need more than one?_

He pocketed the packages as Angela turned around and smiled, taking his arm. "So, are you ready for a good time?"

Tore swallowed and grinned as he let her lead him out of the bar. "You bet."

**April 18****th****, 1963**

Why did mornings have to come so soon? Oh…right. So a guy could enjoy moments like this. Tore opened his eyes just a crack. He was lying on his back, under the covers in a bed he'd never been in before. All he could see with his head turned to his right like that was the mass of brunette curls attached to the woman asleep beside him.

The woman who had spent hours last night completely redefining Tore's entire existence. His one brief experience with Lilah way back didn't even begin to cover the mind-blowing reality of the real thing. After the last month, it was like the ultimate relief. For a few hours he had completely forgotten about the war, about his problems, about… everything, but Angela.

He was exhausted, but he could not remember the last time he had been so relaxed. With a sigh of contentment he stretched and relaxed again. Today was a day off. He didn't have to move until he felt like it.

Or until Angela provoked him to it. A moment later he felt a finger slide slowly up his side, and he shuddered with pleasure. "Good _morning_," she purred in his ear, eyes opening. "Sleep well?"

"Very," he admitted. There was nothing left in him to feel awkward. That had passed last night, after the _first_ sexual encounter. Apparently girls had more stamina than men, though Tore had found himself incapable of passing down the opportunity to try and keep up! It had only been a half an hour of conversation before Angela had dragged him into her bedroom.

"Your friend said you were green," Angela giggled, sitting up a little on one elbow, her hand tracing along his collar bones next. "But that's pretty hard to believe. You're such a natural."

He…"Cal told you what?!" He had _told_ her Tore was a virgin? _Well not anymore. _

"Hey, easy there, Sugar," Angela chuckled. It was almost always a slightly sultry sound he noticed, though he was fairly sure she wasn't over twenty herself. "It's a compliment. And he didn't say it in so many words, he just implied you could use some relaxing and needed a good time. Though he told me not to break you," she added, leaning over him, her lips millimeters from his. "I didn't… break you did I?"

All he could see was her eyes, nose, and lips. "No…" he replied, mouth going dry again. He swallowed. "Not at all."

"Good." She kissed him softly, slowly. "Because that was more fun than I've had in months. You really _are_ a natural you know."

"What does that mean exactly?" Tore asked as he pulled her closer.

Angela grinned and shrugged. "Just what it sounds like. You seem to be in tune with what I want, and you just try and give it, without worrying about what you get out of it."

"Well what I got out of it was pretty incredible," Tore admitted with a short laugh. His cheeks felt warm.

"That's not even half of what I can do you know," Angela replied coyly. "I just didn't want to get in trouble with your friend. He seems to care what happens to you."

"We're in the same unit," Tore replied by way of explanation.

"He mentioned," she was still smiling. In the morning light, she was less _seductively alluring_ perhaps; but Tore thought she was actually prettier in natural light. "Still, I think I'd have had to go after you even if he hadn't come over and hit on Tina."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, you caught my eye," she let her hand stop wandering and it rested on his chest. "I've been pretty lonely since my boyfriend died last year."

She what? Tore swallowed. "I'm sorry to hear that I… you know I'm not going to be here forever right?" He hadn't even thought to ask what she wanted out of this other than sex. What if she was expecting more?

"Relax," she just smiled and shrugged. "I know. All I wanted was a little company with a nice guy. You're definitely good for both. You're an alchemist, and this is a war. It's…scary. But if I was looking for forever I wouldn't be after one of you boys," she kissed him again.

Thank goodness. Tore felt a twinge of guilt for being grateful that she only wanted him for sex and conversation. That's all he'd wanted last night right? Well…once he got into it. "Good. I… I wouldn't want to lead you on or…anything."

"You really are sweet," Angela winked at him. "I could use a little more sugar while you're here. Are you game?"

"I…I'd love to but…" He was rather out of something critical.

Angela giggled again. "That's all right. This is my place, and I'm always prepared for guests."

"Then I guess I have no choice but to accept your hospitality," Tore grinned back, his confidence coming to the front instead. For a little while longer he would put the war away, and spend his day of freedom just _living_ and enjoying this new experience.


	8. Chapter 8

**April 19th, 1963**

Breda had known it would come eventually. He had told every one of his Generals – alchemist and otherwise- to expect it. There was no reasonable way they could have held their wall outside of North City interminably or even for more than a couple of months if they had been lucky. But that was why they had spent the time they had available building up a second defensive position – one sturdier and better prepared – on the other side of the city on the road heading South, sitting right across the road and the train tracks.

Not that they _planned _to give up their original position, but on the day the front barricades came crashing down, the Amestrians were ready. With the alchemists taking the brunt of the push by staying the line and retreating last, they hurried back inside the city – some breaking left or right around the outside walls – in what _appeared _to be a violent rout.

It was pretty convincing too – at least in the violent department. Ordered to look _desperate_, the State Alchemists did their best to throw as many large, flashy attacks at the enemy as they could, while those with more subtle talents took advantage of the distraction to wreak havoc with the attacking Drachman line.

Dangerous the plan might be, but it was also effective, and one that Breda felt offered the least loss of life. In that, at least, he hoped to be right. If nothing else, the chaos allowed them to pull their already injured and the medical staff out of the city itself and back behind the new barricade line. More refugees fled the city.

Now if only they all made it behind the walls. Breda hadn't liked hoofing the entire command center back out of the city either, but it was better than being dead! They managed to move early enough that most of those fleeing – or strategically retreating – were prepared before the Drachmans would see them do it and realize this was planned, but left with just enough time to look like the enemy was hot on their heels.

He'd only been shot at twice!

From the tents behind the new defensive walls, Breda panted and waited, hoping that the rest of the lines would pull around and reform as planned.

* * *

"Wow, Will," Sara panted as she dropped behind an overturned wheelbarrow that also hid her cousin who had just blasted five Drachmans with a burst of alchemical energy that was nothing more than a shove of force, but it sent them flying backwards like they were nothing. "We've been missing out not having you around. You sure Dad didn't give you a name with that rank?" She grinned through the dust, grime, and heat.

Will grinned back at her for a moment before sending another blast in their direction. "Hadn't…. given it much thought," he grunted as he ducked down again. The Alchemists' retreat was taking longer than he had expected as the ends of the Amestrian lines going around the outside of the city had gotten pretty broken up. "I kind of like being a free spirit."

"Yeah, baths at eight, story at eight-thirty, bed at nine for all concerned?" Sara laughed, winking at him. "Quite the free spirit. All right," she paused in the heckling as she heard a whistling sound that turned itself into an explosion of purple and red lights above their heads that began to rain down on the Drachmans – who had learned these fireworks bit back! "That's our cue. Spring for it!"

As the gunfire barrage broke briefly with the concerted attacks, the two Elric cousins ran for the next available cover, about thirty yards distant. Through the gunpowder haze and crowds of running, shooting men, Sara could see Kane standing further back beyond that. His attack was effective at a distance – useful that way.

Sara was almost to the point when she saw someone go down and barely had the awareness to jump as it happened right in front of her. Her foot still caught on the body, sending her into a tumble she managed to salvage into a roll. Skidding in the dirt, she slammed down hard in the earth none-the-less. When she looked up Will had hesitated. "Keep going!" She shouted at him. Stupid…. Did he want to get killed too?

Sara scrambled halfway to her feet before the person she'd just tripped over groaned. "Damn it….Twilight… that hurt."

"Maes?" Sara turned sharply. Her friend was lying in the dirt clutching his side. "Damn it, Mustang." She scrambled back to him, lying flat under incoming fire. "Are you hit?"

"It…didn't lodge," Maes gasped out. "Just a…. flesh wound I think. Hurts like hell but…"

"Stop talking," Sara growled, pulling his hands away from his side. It was bleeding pretty badly but it looked like he was right; too far off center of body mass to hit anything critical. "You just _had_ to get a little drama in didn't you?"

"You know it," Maes grinned at her, though it looked like more of a grimace as she transmuted a shred of his shirt into a quick emergency bandage and dragged it around him and yanked it tight to stem the blood flow.

"Shit, Twilight!" Maes hissed and helped. "You're a lousy medic."

"I'm what you've got unless you want to die out here," Sara retorted as she dragged him up onto her shoulder and, crouching, she began to make her way to cover.

It seemed an interminably long hobble, staying low, half-dragging Maes with bullets whizzing by far-too-close overhead, or plinking clods of dirt up right around them. Sara had no real awareness of time as she finally managed to drag Maes behind a make-shift dirt barricade – the typical alchemical variety. She was pretty sure that, no matter what their specialty, almost every alchemist in Amestris could make a basic barricade.

"Sara, thank goodness," Will was huddled down there too. Then he saw Maes and grimaced. "That doesn't look good."

"I noticed," Sara replied. "It's not likely to kill him though…if we get out of here."

"Then I guess we don't have much option," Will barked a laugh. "Not like I planned on making my final farewells here anyway. Just a second and I'll handle this." He brought his hands together – encased in the same gloves most State Alchemists were used to – and shoved his hands against the ground. A great whoosh and the ground erupted into dust and debris. Whatever Will's study preferences when it came to Alchemy, Sara was grateful for the practical side! His specialty seemed to be the exertion of force, mostly by compressed energy or air; but force none-the-less, with surprisingly refined control.

"Nice moves."

"You didn't think I spent all that time staring into space contemplating philosophy and the nature of the soul did you?" Will smirked. "Let's get out of here."

Together, it was much easier to pull Maes between them. The Firebrand Alchemist seemed to have fallen silent for the moment; probably out of pain more than any lack of conversational urges. Sara had never known Maes to be quiet in any situation!

They caught up with Kane and their other team mate – Russell Tringham's oldest son, Derrick – just as they all hit the new barricades. Sara could even hear the confused shouts of the Drachmans behind them as they vanished from view and they realized that the Amestrians weren't running in full-out flight back down the road!

It was a relief to hear the Amestrian line – already reformed and strong – begin a full out barrage above their heads, and Sara saw Derrick send what looked like vine tendrils of stone shooting out into the midst of the Drachmans.

"Never thought that would be a beautiful sound," Maes finally gasped.

"Oh good, you're not dead," Sara quipped.

"Man everyone here has a morbid sense of humor," Will commented from the other side as they struggled towards the newly re-erected medical tents.

"Does this surprise you?" Sara asked, looking across Maes at her cousin.

"No," Will grinned. "It's kind of like being at one of our family parties."

"See, I told you you'd fit in."

"Are you two trying to kill him with the banter/" Kane asked with a sigh as he joined them. Now that the alchemists were behind the firing line, their mission for the day was complete. At least for their unit. The few who had retreated first on command – or were freshly arrived from South Headquarters just the day before – had the line for now as a nice _surprise_ for the enemy.

"Of course not, Sir," Sara smiled. "Merely keep his spirits up."

"It's not working," Maes grumbled.

"Spirits, arms, whatever," Will replied with a grin. "Let's get him to the doctors."

"Yeah, if you're lucky maybe Ethan can give you a boost on healing up those holes," Sara commented to Maes as they started moving again. "If you wanted to pierce something, ears are cooler anyway."

"Funny," Maes retorted, but there wasn't a lot of strength to it.

Worried, Sara stopped chiding him. "We'll be back soon, Sky Fire."

"Good, report to me in the command center when you're done." Then Kane turned and took Derrick with him in that direction.

"Yes, Sir." Sara started moving again. Maes' quiet concerned her. Normally, even injured, he was a walking mouth. She just hoped the wound wasn't more severe than she thought.

* * *

"Thanks for fixing my foot, Mrs. Elric." Cal Fischer smiled at Winry as he stood up and flexed it, trying his weight. "It's never jammed like that before."

"It's not your usual foot," Winry reminded him with a smile. "The cold-weather auto-mail is easier to jam in the joints putting it through the kind of pounding you guys are. Designers can minimize the incidents, but there's nothing we can do to stop you from abusing it in combat."

Cal laughed, one hand behind his head. "You could make a rock feel guilty for bumping into the auto-mail, Ma'am," he said as he sat back down and pulled on his sock and boot.

"Then maybe someday I'll get to do maintenance on a piece of auto-mail that doesn't come to me so dinged up," Winry chuckled. "Not that I can really scold you for getting it shot at; this is a war zone."

"That never stopped you from screaming at me," Edward's objection made her turn. Muddy and a little charred looking, he was making his way toward them through the wing of the medical tent walled off as the auto-mail workshop.

Winry resisted the urge to leap up from where she was seated and throw her arms around her husband; something she wanted very much to do every time she saw him lately. It was something she _did _do every night – no matter how late it was – when they finally met up again in the barracks. Though tonight they wouldn't have the luxury of the barracks rooms. She didn't even know where they would be sleeping. It seemed odd that someone else had seen to their bags on the retreat and would make sure sleeping quarters were arranged. She supposed it was one of the advantages to rank in the military. Having never been along for a full military campaign – or as anything other than a simple mechanic – it took some getting used to. "Well you seem to go out of your way to find trouble most days," she countered.

"There is that," Ed laughed and he bent down and kissed her cheek, heedless of the crowded room. "I see you made it out of the city all right."

Winry nodded. "We've been set up for hours. Busy too. Fortunately all of my patients have been in fairly good health," she smiled back at Cal. "You're done."

"Great. I'll get out of your way then," Cal smiled with a polite nod as he pulled on his coat. "Thanks again!" He waved as he turned and moved away.

Winry watched him go. He wove his way through the crowd easily, stopping to flirt with no less than three nurses in the hospital end before he reached the door, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and vanished out into the falling darkness. Then she turned back to Ed. "So are you off duty or are you just here to tell me you've once again managed to get your auto-mail destroyed?" She quipped, teasing.

Ed smiled sheepishly and held up his arm. There was a large dent in the forearm cover piece. "Nothing so dramatic," he assured her. "But it's messing with a couple of the synthetic muscles and slowing it down."

Winry sighed but kept smiling. "I expected something from you. Sit down and let me take a better look at it."

Ed compiled, draping his coat over the back of the chair and laying his arm on the workbench. Winry moved over and examined the plate. As she did so, she couldn't help but notice that – as seemed usual of late – Ed smelled of sweat, mud, and gunpowder. Outside, not too far in the distance, she could still hear gunfire, though it seemed to have lessened. "So, did the plan work?" She asked the question as a distraction for them both as she detached the cover and flipped it over.

"The new line is holding," Ed nodded, then flashed her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. Breda knew what he was doing. The Drachmans will have to pull back again soon and regroup. Then they'll spend some time trying to get full control of the city. We'll press them so they can't, and eventually the Drachmans will have to cede the city back. That's the theory anyway." He paused. "So, what's the damage?"

Winry was already pulling out a large hammer. "I'm going to need to bang the dent out, but I should be able to do that and buff it smooth again without any real structural damage. If you want it as bonded a piece as it was," she couldn't help smiling at him knowingly, "you can do that yourself."

Ed snickered. "Being an alchemist has some advantages. How long will it take?"

"Maybe an hour?" Winry estimated as she started banging away on the dent herself. No one else worked on Ed's auto-mail if she had any say in the issue. "The grinding and buffing takes the longest, but we'll see. Have you eaten?"

She knew the answer before he answered. "Not yet," he replied. "I've been checking in, making sure everyone's okay." Then Ed barked a short laugh. "I could use a bath too, couldn't I?"

"You could," Winry smiled, pausing in hammering. "I've got a temporary cover we can put on that. Not for combat, but it'll do for a while. You should go eat, Ed, and wash up and get into something dry. You don't want to catch cold do you?"

"The voice of nagging reason," Ed smiled as he stood up and joined her. "Though I guess I can't argue. You're my mechanic after all."

"Darn straight," Winry laughed, turning and giving him a hug, not caring if she got mud on her coveralls. She could hear his heartbeat inside his chest – whole, healthy, strong – and it still reassured her that everything would be all right. "Go rest. Oh, but before you do," she looked up. "You said you were checking on everyone. Is everyone…." Was their family all right?

Ed chuckled, his arms around her. "Sara and Will are fine. I found Aldon celebrating their successful engineering feat with the new barricade with the rest of his unit. They're off duty tonight and I told Aldon he'd better come find you before the end of tomorrow so you wouldn't worry," he held her closer. "I even saw Tore outside on my way in." Winry saw Ed's face muscles twitch briefly. She knew that sign. She also knew why he was twitching.

"Ed… he's an adult. You can't tell him what to do outside of his duties."

"Yeah, I know," Ed sighed. "I haven't said a word and I'm not going to. Not as long as he doesn't do anything that jeopardizes his position as a State Alchemist. And he hasn't done that." He shrugged. "I… well, I guess I can't blame him can I? It's tough out there."

"Death is difficult to deal with," Winry agreed. "Death, violence… you had a tough time once too."

"I still do," Ed replied with a weak smile. "If I didn't have you I'd never have made it this far. I just can't help worrying about him too."

"You wouldn't be you if you could," Winry reached up, patting his cheek. The skin under her hand was rough with stubble. "Go bathe…and shave," she added with a knowing smile. "I'll see you tonight once I'm done fixing this arm plate." She stepped back then and reached for a temporary plate to protect the inner workings of Ed's arm.

"Do you need me to bring you anything to eat?" Ed asked.

Winry paused, touched by his concern, and the fact that Ed had remembered to offer at all. For years it wouldn't have crossed his mind. "I'll make sure to get something. Don't worry." After all, worrying was _her_ department!

* * *

"Are we done yet?" Maes asked, trying not to sound impatient as he grimaced at the doctor who was cleaning his wounds. He had a neat little hole where the bullet had gone in, and out, of the side muscle layer about half way up his right side. At least he wasn't bleeding anymore. Ethan Elric had come by briefly, long enough to stop it with a little alchemical _help_. The other doctor estimated that Maes had just been gifted with about two full days of healing. _And two full days of exhaustion. _Maes wanted to eat, sleep, and gripe. Barely a month into the campaign and he was injured! Shot too; not even an alchemical injury, but a lucky bullet as he blasted back the enemy with a flaming attack that wasn't as big as he wanted thanks to all the moisture in the air.

"Just about," the doctor assured him and gave one last firm tug before securing the bandages. Maes refused to cry out despite the pain. "There we go, Firebrand. All patched up."

"Good to hear," Marcus Kane commented as he walked over. The man had impeccable timing as usual. "How's it feel, Mustang?"

"I've felt better," he commented with as casual a shrug as he could manage. "Also been worse."

"What's the final damage?" Kane looked at the doctor.

The man nodded, pushing glasses up his long thin nose. "It caught flesh and smacked a rib on the way through. There should be no permanent damage from either, though I recommend at least a couple of weeks' rest given the opportunity."

"At least?" Kane looked contemplative.

"Oh no, I'm fine," Maes objected. The last thing he wanted was to be pulled off the line. His heart was pounding. This war was his chance to fix things. He couldn't be out of it already! He'd never live it down.

"You've lost a lot of blood," the doctor objected matter-of-factly. "If you were sitting in the trenches firing a gun I might feel differently, but with the strain alchemists put themselves under being as great as it is, and the amount of energy involved, I'm afraid I'm not giving you a choice."

That was it. Kane would never approve a quick return to duty under that statement. He was right. Kane nodded. "A couple of weeks off won't kill us," he chuckled dryly. "Maes, you're hereby on medical leave for the next two weeks. If it'll make you feel better I charge you with the task of defending the medical tents if it becomes necessary."

Which Kane knew Maes would do whether he was ordered to or not; or rather, even if he was ordered to stand down. Maes nodded. Further argument would only get him in hot water with his commanding officer. He'd learned years ago not to outright argue with the Sky Fire Alchemist. "Yes, Sir. Am I relegated to the medical tent, Sir?" The ability to at least walk around, or sleep in the tent he was supposed to share with Will Elric and Derrick Tringham on this little campaign, would be appreciated.

"Until the doctor gives you freedom to do otherwise," Kane replied. "I'll abide by his judgment."

"Tomorrow,_ if_ you cooperate," the doctor smirked.

_ Damned doctors._ Doctors and commanding officers, they were both pains in the ass.

**April 24th, 1963**

The Eastern Front, as it quickly became, was – he supposed – probably even wetter and more miserable than North City. Lodged up in the twists and turns of evergreen and rocky mountain paths, it was prone to mudslides and there hadn't been sun for days. The clouds seemed to like lying low in the mountains and just sitting.

Alphonse was definitely beginning to detest rain and mud. He already hated Drachma. He remembered now the stories from alchemists who had been sent up this way to deal with the winter and spring storms; storms that had orphaned children like Charisa and Niam; killed dozens of people.

Well he just hoped that if anyone got stuck in mudslides up here, it was the Drachmans.

Their arrival on the front three days before had been none too soon. The Eastern Command forces had arrived first and were being practically walked over before the reinforcements arrived. Then it was _not quite_ an even battle, but with the added oomph of the State Alchemists coming in more force, it was a much closer fight. The Drachmans had been smart though; the alchemists they had sent East seemed to be familiar with dealing with rock, dirt, or water. Which, given the season and the weather, posed problems since it gave them plenty of material to work with.

Their primary point of contention became a narrow pass in the hills where the train tracks ran through a series of deep ravines. It was an excellent choke point, and it kept the Drachmans from being able to move forward en masse and uninhibited. Three days of combat had yielded them… well, nothing on either side per se. Al was just grateful that the Drachmans had made no further progress and did not have a steam engine. If they'd had trains, they might have plowed the Amestrians right off the tracks they were blocking.

On the fourth evening shooting ceased temporarily thanks to a dumping storm that had come out of the west and parked practically over them, water falling in sheets so thick neither side could see let alone shoot.

"I never thought I'd be so grateful for rain," Roy grumbled as they sat, huddled inside an abandoned two-room cabin less than a quarter mile from the line. It was serving as a command post, though Al had noticed that most of the command staff spent as much time in there – as opposed to their tents – as possible.

"When this is over, I believe a long vacation in the desert is in order," Armstrong chuckled.

"Seems a bit dry," General Brewster commented.

"Or just a nice coast somewhere, like Creta," Al suggested with a grin as he dropped down in a chair at the table that held the detailed map they had gotten of the local area from the denizens of the town of Redquarry, located ten miles down the train tracks. It was laid next to the military maps, but there were a lot of useful details; where the old mines were, current mines, and various geographical features.

"But then there's an ocean," Roy pointed out.

"But you don't _have_ to go in it," Al replied with a knowing grin. "Besides, there's beaches."

Roy caught on. "Beaches, where our wives will be socially expected to parade around in skimpy swimwear." A contemplative expression that was half smug grin crossed his face.

"Some of us are not so easily pressured," Riza startled them all as she stepped inside, rifle still in hand. She pulled off a helmet and her blonde hair came down with it. "Tell me there's coffee."

"We have instant coffee packets, cups, rainwater, and the Flame Alchemist," Al quipped.

Riza chuckled. "That will do."

"Hey, who made me the coffee maker?" Roy objected.

"You want cold water instead?" Brewster snickered. Outside the pounding sound of chilly rain seemed to emphasize just how much of that they already had.

Roy shook his head. "I'd like to find a strategy that has us sitting here waiting for them to dump another mudslide on us for as little time as possible."

That was one of the strategies the Drachman alchemists had already tried twice. Neither time had successfully lost the Amestrians any men or women, but they had been taxing on the State Alchemists to stop forces of nature that required little impetus from the Drachmans after they started.

"Hear hear," came a chorus of voices.

Al looked down at the map again, as they had every night since arriving. General Maria Ross Bloch from Eastern Headquarters had been here from the beginning and knew the area better than they did anyway. It was her responsibility normally. It was the same region Edward and Alphonse had run around in under Roy's command for years as kids too. Though they had rarely come this far north.

"This is the best place to hold them," General Bloch told them seriously. "Further north up these tracks is fairly treacherous ground. For them to come past this point they have to come down through the ravines on the tracks. There is also a series of bridges north of us that we might be able to make use of if we can destroy them."

"We might be able to do that with alchemist strike teams," Roy nodded in agreement.

"Engineers too," Brewster pointed out with a small smile. "We don't have to use the alchemists for everything. Not that I don't appreciate the willingness, Mustang. But we might need you guys in reserve sometimes for bigger missions than blowing bridges."

Roy looked mildly miffed for a moment but – to Al's amazement – relented with a nod. "You have a point." Then his smile returned. "It's nice to know you consider us more than high quality tools."

"Please," Bloch laughed, "after this long, Mustang? We wouldn't dare underestimate the damage you can do."

The levity was all they had to break up the tension and stress. Al definitely appreciated it, as well as the rather odd circumstance of being surrounded by old and familiar faces. There wasn't a person standing in the room that he hadn't known for a large portion of his life. It was comforting in a way.

"As long as you remember that," Roy replied, mollified. "All right, so we start making strikes against the bridges to cut them off from reinforcements and resupply and shore up here. At least it's mostly rocks and we haven't been flooded out."

"The way you talk, people will think you don't like water," Riza commented with a perfectly straight face.

Further snickers accompanied the rest of the discussion as the plan was quickly agreed upon to dig in where they were and make the needed forays with a mix of regular soldiers and alchemists, usually alternating to keep things a surprise. When they were done, the meeting broke up and everyone moved reluctantly back out into the cold and wet.

"So how's Denny?" Al asked Maria – Ross – Bloch as they walked back to their tents through the rain. He had his rain coat hood pulled up as tight around his face as possible.

Maria smiled. "Doing well, though he almost re-upped when he heard Drachma had invaded." She shook her head with a wry smile. "He's much better off at home." Denny Bloch, her former colleague turned eventual husband had retired from the military and played at-home Dad while their kids were small, allowing Maria to pursue her military career. Al had always liked them both, but he had to admit that Maria was the better officer.

"Is he still in radio?" It amused Al that Denny had taken up work as a radio disk jockey once the kids were in school and had kept up with it after that. "We don't get that signal all the way in Central."

"Still doing it and loving it," Maria assured him. "He's actually gotten pretty good at it. He does talk segments and comedy along with music now."

"I can just imagine," Al chuckled.

"You and Elicia should visit sometime," Maria offered, pausing outside her tent, which they came to first. "Bring the whole family. When William and Ethan were in college at least we saw them every once in a while."

"How often _did_ the boys stop in to raid your kitchen?" Al asked.

"Not often enough," Maria replied honestly. "See if they'd all come too. You boys used to work out of Eastern Headquarters. Make a reunion out of it and bring the whole family."

"Maybe we will," Al grinned as he kept moving. Maria vanished into the night behind him as she ducked into her tent. Soon everything around him was swallowed up by the rain and a growing mist. Al ducked into his little tent; grateful to have one to himself, though it was right beside the other officers' tents. At least it was only mildly damp.

Well there was a way to take care of that. Al clapped his hands together and held them to the tent, using alchemy to wring any water that had managed to permeate the canvas out of it, then moved his hand to the ground and dried it out as well. "There, one dry room," he smiled to himself. He was sure Elicia would have laughed at him, using alchemy for such a small comfort. Well, so what if the wet bothered him more than it used to? Al preferred not catching cold on top of being out in combat.

He quickly changed for bed and tucked himself into his cot. From the tent to his left he could hear Roy and Riza bedding down as well, talking quietly. It made Al miss Elicia even more. Not that he would ever have wanted her out here. Still, he envied Edward having Winry with him at North City for the closeness. Al was torn between wanting to see his wife and grateful that he wouldn't until this was over. There was much to do; and at least one thing he wasn't sure he could do with Elicia watching.

It was that thought that followed Al into slumber, like it did most nights. There was no way Amestris would stop until Drachma was pushed back. There was no room for failure. Like in everything else he had ever done, Al refused to admit the possibility of defeat.


	9. Chapter 9

**May 5****th****, 1963**

The Drachmans learned the hard way after Breda's feint – the false retreat from North City – that taking the city was going to be much more difficult than they expected. The Drachmans could surround the city on all sides save the South, where outside the walls the Amestrian defenses were now well-entrenched. However, entry was blocked… by alchemists. Breda had ordered several units of alchemists to remain within the city and guard all entrances and man the walls. It was amazing what a couple dozen alchemists could manage against the Drachman army when they weren't trying to destroy the city, merely occupy it.

"You really do know how to throw a party," Edward snickered to Breda over the maps in the command tent one afternoon. "The Drachmans have got to be sorry they messed with us."

"Don't get too cocky, Ed," Breda smirked humorlessly as Ed watched him pour over numbers and positions. "All this does is give us a chance to gather more troops in one spot. It's a stalling tactic."

Ed shrugged. "Well it's working. We're holding and they're losing more men than we are." By quite a bit at the moment. It still stung that they had already lost a handful of alchemists. Ed knew every one of them, even if only in passing. Each one felt like a failure on his part to train them well enough, even though he knew better. Still, every lost alchemist was one more Ed intended to take out of the hide of whatever Drachman he had to in order to assure this never happened again. First, though, they had to stop _this _invasion. Ed sighed, scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he looked at the options. "When do you plan to retake the city permanently?"

"I like how you don't use _if_," Breda smiled this time, tiredly. "Not too long. We can't give them the opportunity to get past our alchemical defenses and actually _take _the city. It's tough enough funneling out evacuees like this."  
"How many people have left the city?" Ed asked. He knew it was a lot, and that they were scattering South and to the four winds as quickly as possible, going to live with family or friends as far from North City as they could get. Refugees fleeing the Drachmans from further North had been showing up for some time.

"Over a hundred thousand so far," Breda scowled. "Though there's thousands left who still refuse to go. Can't blame them, but it's on their heads if they get killed."

Ed nodded grimly. "How many have enlisted?"

Breda gave him a knowing look. "About fifteen-thousand men, and that's after turning away boys and men old enough to be my father if he'd lived this long." He turned away from the table and walked over to the coffee pot, pouring his third cup in the past two hours. "Drachma's trying to demoralize and conquer at the same time. They've burned empty fields and sacked buildings. They've taken captives. Reports say they've been executing people too. That kind of thing gets men riled up."

As Ed came around the table to get a better look at the estimates of Drachman forces still outside the city, there was a knock at the door.

"Get in here!" Breda bellowed. "And it better be important."

A Major entered, saluted, and held out a notice. "General Breda, Sir, a message sir."

"In regards to what exactly?" Breda snatched the envelope away, then pulled out the slip of paper inside.

"I don't know, Sir," the Major admitted. "I was just told to deliver it immediately."

Ed watched as Breda's eyes scanned the words, then went wide and his face pale. He had rarely seen Breda upset before. Irritated certainly, or terrified by a dog, but the look of horror and pain on his face was not one Ed had seen there before. Hand clenched around the note, Breda nodded sharply once. "You've done your job, Major. Dismissed."

The Major disappeared out the door. As soon as he was gone Ed dared to speak. "What's wrong?"

Breda was shaking slightly. He took down the luke-warm cup of coffee in a single gulp, then set the cup down. "I… Mitchell's dead."

Mitchell? It took Ed a moment to register it as a first name; Mitchell was Nancy's grown son, the one who lived up North. "Shit… what happened?"

"He… he was trying to leave the city," Breda replied hoarsely. "His wife and the kids're already on their way to Central." Mitchell's kids were older than Charisa and Niam; full grown and married themselves if Ed remembered right. He knew Breda and Nancy and the kids spent time with them at least once a year, but as Mitchell didn't particularly see Breda as a step-father given the age difference, it was easy to forget Nancy had been married and widowed before meeting Heymans. "He got caught in an unexpected volley; right in the head. Ah hell…. How am I ever going to tell Nancy?"

Ed came the rest of the way around the table, laying a hand on his friend's arm. "No one deserves to die, Breda, especially not civilians. I'm sorry about Mitchell."

Breda took a deep breath and pulled it together. "Thanks, Ed. Damned war. You know, I like to consider myself a forgiving man, but right now… I hate Drachma."

"I doubt you're the only one," Ed quipped. He was quickly losing respect for even Drachma's military at this rate. Their war tactics were brutal, but only so far in that they used a lot of force and didn't care about losing men. He was fairly certain that Alphonse bordered on honest hatred of more than just Tamirov now. Getting Al to hate anyone was pretty hard. "Hang in there. He's one more person we won't let have died without being avenged."

"You make it sound like revenge is justified," Breda looked at him, not horrified, but apparently startled.

Ed shrugged. "We're the ones being assaulted. Our innocent are dying for _no good reason._ Our soldiers are dying because someone else decided they wanted to muck around down here and they got alchemists involved. I take it personally, and sometimes justice and revenge are the same in the end. Take whichever motive you prefer."

"You have a point," Breda sighed. "Doesn't make it much easier does it? Sometimes I think we get less callous as we get older after a point instead of more so."

"Who's we?" Ed smirked, teasing a little despite the situation. He knew Breda wasn't over it but, like any old soldier, he was far too used to it; and now he regretted that necessity.

"You're not the sprout you were when you first showed up at East Headquarters," Breda snickered.

"Yeah, and I'm grateful for that," Ed laughed. "You're lucky I'm mellower too."

"That's like calling Roy mellow," Breda clapped Ed on the shoulder. "Get back to work. Tell Fines and Kane I'll want a word with all three of you in the morning about trying to relieve and replace some of the alchemists inside the city. We'll let Drachma beat their brains out against the walls a while longer before we make our reinforced move and make a more offensive action."

"Will do," Ed nodded and left. It was clear what Breda also really wanted was a few minutes alone to give a family member the bit of grief he deserved.

* * *

When Edward got back to his tent, he found that it was surprisingly crowded despite it being almost dinner time. "Did everyone get off duty at once?"

Ethan and Aldon were standing beside Ed's portable desk, while Will sat there, apparently working on a letter. Sara and Franz were perched on his and Winry's bed – a real mattress currently laid out over two cots – and Winry was settled in the one other little camp chair they had. All in all, even for an officer's tent it was packed!

"We have a little more free time when we don't have commands of our own and we haven't been shot at in three days," Sara snickered, leaning against her husband, whose arm was tight around her shoulders.

Winry stood and came over, hugging him. "I'm off duty this evening. No emergency auto-mail assignments to work on."

"So everyone descended on our place." Ed hugged her back.

"There's room on the bed," Sara laughed.

"I'm not exactly the voyeuristic type," Ed rolled his eyes at his daughter's suggestive tone. "Not that I'm not glad to see everybody, but is there a particular reason you're all here?"

"Sure," Ethan grinned. "Letters from home! Will got letters from Ren and Aunt Elicia."

Suddenly it all made perfect sense. Given most of his family was_ here_, Edward had almost forgotten about letters on this campaign. Who would write _him_? "So what's the news?"

Will grinned. "Well most of it is details about Minxia, stories of anything interesting happening at the clinic, and updates on how the baby's doing." It was clear that particular information was part of what Will waited for most in each letter. Ed knew Ren was five and a half months along now. As if Will ever let anyone in the family forget!

"And how is the little handful?" Ed chuckled.

"Kicking," Will replied, taking the teasing in stride. Ed could tell his nephew regretted not being there even though it had been his choice to join the fight. He understood that feeling all too well. "She's convinced it's a boy; already can't hold still."

"I'm sure Cassie would agree with that assessment," Aldon chortled. "Not that we have any comparison."

"They both kick," Sara and Winry spoke in perfect unison, looked at each other, and started laughing.

Hearing laughter, given the grimness of the situation around them, was like the sun coming out after days of rain. Not that it had done that lately. North City seemed plagued with constantly overcast weather, spring rains or no.

Ed's arm snaked around Winry's waist. "Well I guess that settles that. What does Elicia say?"

Will set aside his reply and picked up the other letter again. "Mom talks about home, Alyse, and how weird things are with everyone gone mostly. Apparently things are pretty tense in Central."

That didn't surprise Ed either. Everyone was on edge with a war going on right here on their home soil. Family and friends were all likely to know someone who was either in the military, or a civilian in the path of the invasion. "Well, tell her we appreciate the news," he commented, then looked around. "So, who's up for dinner? If we don't hit the mess early, the good stuff will be gone."

"I hear you there!" Ethan grinned, moving towards the entrance.

Sara and Franz stood up. "You won't hear us complaining," Sara agreed. "I prefer hot slop to cold slop any day."

"The food's not that bad," Will countered as he tucked the letters into his pocket and joined them.

"You're kidding, right?" Sara asked dubiously. "This stuff makes the Mess at Headquarters taste almost like good home cooking."

"It's nice to know my cooking skills are appreciated," Winry chuckled.

"Always, Mom," Aldon assured her.

"Sara's just never had college food," Ethan replied. "She doesn't understand."

As the chatter continued, the small mob moved out the door and back into the chill evening.

"Hey, Dad," Aldon dropped back beside him. "Can we talk?"

"Sure." Ed let go of Winry with a _promise I'll be back soon_ smile, and dropped behind the group a little with his son. "So, what's up?"

Aldon hesitated a moment, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to say what he clearly did want to. Finally he blurted it out. "How did you do this, Dad? Going off and knowing everyone at home misses you?"

Ed paused, familiar guilt washing over him briefly. "You do what you have to."

"It kills me every time I get a letter from home," Aldon admitted. "Cassie lets the boys write things on the end when she's finished." Ed had seen those parts of the letters Aldon had received from home; Aldon shared the scribbles and drawings proudly. Ian and little Edward weren't really writing yet, but they drew. "I've even taking to writing two letters home," Aldon admitted, looking guilty. "One for Cassie, and then one she can read to the boys."

"There're things kids don't need to know," Ed agreed sympathetically. No child needed to hear the realities of the battlefield; the death and dying and horror. Not at that age if they could avoid it. That, and there were private things no child should hear pass between their parents either! "Or wives for that matter."

"I don't give her the dirty details either," Aldon admitted. "I don't tell her about the soldiers I've met who've already died, or the people I've seen blow up while reinforcing defenses in the middle of a fire fight. I can't tell her how lonely I really feel, though I've told her I miss her. But I feel…wrong…for not telling her everything in my letters."

"Maybe because you can't do it face to face," Ed suggested. "It's always easier in person; in her arms. That's when the truth comes out. It's tough to be as hard as we have to be to survive in a war. You've got to be callous, harsh, sometimes even brutal, but you can't let it get to you until it's all over. Then… well then you can't hold it back anymore. We go back to the rest of the world, to the ones who don't know; the ones we've protected but don't always understand. But they want to, at least to support you. Just make sure you tell her when you get home okay?" Otherwise, he knew Aldon would regret it.

"I will," Aldon replied, and his tired face looked relieved, like at least one weight of many was lightened. "It's an experience, learning all this. I didn't know either; and sometimes I wish I still didn't even though I know coming was the right thing to do. But we're only a couple of months into this, and it'll probably be a lot longer. I'm not sure I can last that long."

"You can," Ed insisted. "Don't even think you can't. You're one of the most ingenious people I know, son or not. Besides, all you have to do to make it through is survive. That's what matters."

"Yeah. I promised them I'd come home alive," he smiled weakly. "Do you know how hard it was to convince Coran he had to stay home?" Aldon shook his head. "I told him if he pulled the same stunt as his Aunt Sara I'd come home and chain him to the house."

"Did he really threaten to try and come along?" Ed asked. He wouldn't have put it past Aldon's eldest. Coran was barely a month shy of thirteen now. Sara had been fourteen when she ran off to the Xing War. But then, she had also been a reasonably well trained alchemist already at that point.

"Until I pointed out he wasn't an alchemist, only qualifies as an apprentice level mechanic, and that I needed him to take care of his Mom and his brothers," Aldon nodded. "It scared the hell out of me to think of him out here, and I hadn't even seen a battle yet." Then he shook himself. "At least he saw sense. I'm not sure the younger boys really understand what's going on."

"And we'll just make sure they don't have to," Ed assured him, though it was with a sad realization that Aldon, like both of his other children, now understood the harsh realities of the world in a new way. Even though this was Ethan's first personal war experience, he'd been home after Aerugo and he'd had his own brush with death. Aldon had been domestically comfortable in Resembool for over a decade. Before that he'd had minor drama in his life at Briggs, but nothing like this. Aldon's eyes had changed like all the rest. "Any word on your friends," he asked then.

Aldon shook his head. "No, not a word about Ollie and Kit. Though you're more likely to hear about specific survivors before I do. I'm just an engineer."

"And this time I'm just an alchemist… technically," Ed pointed out. Retired General or not, he was only in charge of his own alchemist unit. That didn't mean Breda and Kane didn't let him keep his nose in everything else though. "I haven't heard much of anything about the Briggs intelligence. I'll ask though."

"Thanks," Aldon smiled weakly. "Sorry to dump on you with all this."

"Don't apologize," Ed shook his head. "If you need to talk to someone, do it. Otherwise it builds up and eventually you crack, or explode… or both. Then it hurts everyone, including you."

Aldon looked sheepish. "I guess I'm talking to an expert, huh? I feel like I'm listening to my own advice."

"Then all you have to do is remember it," Ed grinned. Aldon had always been his stable, sensible child, with even less of a temper than Winry. He used his mind to approach problems, but logic and reasoning went hand in hand with a good heart. Aldon was usually the one to suggest the best solution first if it came down to it. Ed tossed his arms around his son in a brief hug. "I'm glad you're here, even if I wish none of us were. Still it feels right, somehow, that we do this as a family."

"Saving Amestris," Aldon chuckled, "It's what the Elrics are all about."

**May 10****th****, 1963**

Tore was beginning to wonder if the ringing sound of gunfire would ever fade from his ears. His unit had been one of the ones recently sent back into the city to spell some of the other alchemists keeping the Drachmans out. While he knew they weren't currently shooting at the Amestrian army settled down behind the city daily, they didn't seem to be able to resist taking shots at the alchemists _inside_ the city and continuing to try and breach the walls by any means possible. "You'd think they would figure out stone walls don't yield to bullets."

"You want to go down there and tell them to stop wasting lead?" Cal asked with a snort from where he sat hunkered down beside him on top of the city wall's North gate. "It's better than when they throw crude alchemy around and try and take down sections of the wall." That seemed to happen at least once a day; but Tore and most of the other Amestrian alchemists knew how to put a wall back together by now, no matter what their specialty. Fullmetal's training had included a lot of useful tricks apparently. They were things he had taught Tore at one point as well.

"No, I'm not feeling that generous," Tore retorted. "I don't want to give them any good ideas. I don't suppose they're likely to run out of ammunition?"

"I bet they have alchemists transmuting more, if they're good enough," Cal answered. He didn't seem to have a particularly high opinion of the DAs. Not that any of the Amestrians did. The more they fought against them, the less threatening they seemed except for the problem of sheer numbers. Their alchemy might be limited, but that didn't make it dangerous and a pain to deal with.

Tore went back to sketching the transmutation circle against the wall they were sitting on. "Nah. They probably have enough coming down from Drachma to last them a dozen wars. They must breed like mice."

"Not much to do in those frigid winters but screw," Cal chuckled, working on his own circle. The constant rain and wet mist made it necessary to redraw circles far more regularly than Tore liked, but it was still preferable for changing different types of alchemy. The gloves were useful only for an alchemist's personal specialty. The same circle would not work for everything after all.

"When you put it that way, it doesn't sound that bad," Tore laughed. Bored, he pressed his hands to the wall, transmuting two stone figures that were little more than human shaped lumps that stood up taller than the wall, and were really made of little more than plaster and dirt pulled up through the wall itself. Moments later gunfire showered the figures, and they disintegrated back into the pile of dust Tore had used to make figures four times already today. It gave them something to shoot at and him something to do.

"Drink vodka, sleep with women," Cal pondered that. "Yeah, you've got a point. But really, I hate snow and slush, and the girls would almost never be able to walk around in tank-tops or swim suits." He shook his head. "It doesn't seem worth it."

"That's true," Tore sighed. "It's pretty dismal up there. You think we'll get a chance at any of the big alchemists? These guys really don't seem like all that, you know? Not compared to us, or to Tamirov."

Cal shook his head. "I keep forgetting you've met the bastard. Is he worth all the hype?"

Tore shrugged, wincing as a particularly loud canon shot sent a ball over the wall about forty feet to his right. Below them, Kieleigh handled it, sending the thing shooting back over the wall with one of her own alchemical explosions, practically catching the thing in mid-air! "Compared to us? Honestly, I don't think so. I mean, he's mostly a research alchemist. He's the one who turned my uncle into a chimera." He could speak about it more dispassionately now. It had been roughly five years since he found out. "He's twisted and power mad though; like the alchemists Fullmetal and the others talk about fighting and having to deal with a lot more before the Flame overthrew Fuhrer Bradley. If he's got the new government behind him than he's probably got worse stuff planned than these guys."

"Chimeras you think?" Cal speculated as the current volley came to an end. It would be about half an hour before the next round began if the last several days' pattern was any indication. The Drachmans were proving, so far, to be horribly predictable. It wasn't Tore's place to worry about that though. He was sure General Breda was just waiting for a sudden shift.

"I wouldn't put it past him," Tore nodded. "Though he'd have to have started from scratch after we torched his last lab. It's too bad they got some idiot in government willing to fund that stuff. No wonder people used to hate Amestris."

"Would you believe I've never seen a chimera?" Cal commented as he pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket.

"You're lucky," Tore replied, staring out over the city in front of them. Not that he could see much. Several of the buildings nearby were tall enough to block the view in some directions. "Hey, can I bum one?"

"Don't you have your own?" Cal snorted as he lit the cigarette, then shrugged and offered the pack.

"In my rucksack, in the barracks," Tore shrugged, taking one from the offered package and using an alchemical spark to light it instead. His gloves weren't quite Flame's, but they served to get an electrical spark when needed. They used a lot of static. He grinned and stuck the cigarette in his mouth. "Besides, why worry when I can always count on you?"

Cal exhaled, and shook his head. "Don't mistake me for a nice guy."

"Then don't pull a crap line like that," Tore snickered. "You know no one really believes it."

"Oh really?" Cal arched one eyebrow.

"You're too well liked, for some reason," Tore pointed out. "Maybe you don't have a lot of close friends, but women obviously like you, and most guys don't want to kill you even so."

"You have a point," Cal leaned back against the wall. "You know I'm supposed to be the experienced soldier here and you the wet-behind-the-ears rookie."

"What, I can be aware enough to stay alive, but not to notice things about people I spent all my time dodging bullets with," Tore teased? He didn't mind Cal's taunts the way he did a lot of others. They were alike in some ways.

Cal smirked. "So clearly I've taught you too well."

"Think that way if you like." Tore didn't really care, and he knew Cal was still kidding around. It was odd how dull sitting on a wall dodging enemy fire could be after a few days. At least he had someone to spend the time with who didn't drive him nuts.

"What are you two doing up there?" The Emerald Alchemist's voice carried up to the wall.

Tore snapped his fingers and sent a small lightning bolt shooting out of the sky into the enemy on the other side of the wall. "Working!" He edged away from the wall and peered down the other side to where his commanding officer was looking up at them, arms crossed under her chest.

"Nice posture, Emerald!" Cal quipped. He had moved too it seemed.

Fines did not uncross her arms. "More alchemy less chatter, Whitewater."

"All right," Cal leaned back, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and turning back to the wall at hand. The enemy would not be quiet for long.

"Yes Ma'am," Tore replied before joining him. He definitely preferred distance sniping to killing up close and personal. He had fewer nightmares that way. "So, see any DAs? We should pick them off first."

Cal shrugged and poked his head barely up over the edge of the wall. "Not yet. At least they're foolish enough to run around with those bright red hats." So far, all of the Drachman Alchemists had been in bright red hats, as opposed to the black of the rest of the Drachman army.

Tore was grateful that State Alchemists wore regular military uniforms. They, at least, weren't obvious targets until they starting flinging around the forces of nature! "Yeah, they make real pretty targets. Let's teach them what a mistake that fashion statement is."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hello all! I hope you enjoyed the holidays. :)

A little forewarning. I am going back to Graduate School starting next week to finish my Masters in Creative Writing. It's been over four years and I'm very excited. :) I am also applying for jobs, and have interviews for two; one half-time, one full-time. What all this means, is that my life is about to get much busier.

For the immediate future, this makes little difference in my story. I have a nice buffer of chapters for posting right now. However, this also means that my writing and editing time is about to get cut drastically. So I am contemplating going back to one a week posting at some point in order to avoid every reaching a point where I cannot post consistently on the stories every week.

However, before I do that, I would appreciate commentary (from anyone who wants to) via Private Message as to if people will mind once-a-week posting. I started posting only once a week back over a year and a half ago, and then jumped to three times a week with Story 24: Alchemists and Generals. I had lots of free time then! I very much appreciate every one of you who reads my stories, and I want to take your preferences and feelings into consideration before making a decision on changing my posting schedule.

For anyone else whose winter is as unusually bitter and cold as mine... stay warm!


	10. Chapter 10

**May 23****rd****, 1963**

There was no way to tell whether it was raining or not outside. The weather had warmed a bit, and there was less rain from day to day then there had been, but all that meant was that things were often gray, mildly cool, and damp. A couple of days before had revealed their first view of sunbeams in weeks. It had cheered the troops, and for a couple of days there had been a reprieve from combat. Still, the weeks were dragging, and the Amestrians were hard at work holding off the Drachmans who had split off from the main army and attacked to the East.

Underground in a currently empty mining tunnel, several alchemists worked transmuting the raw material of the mine to alter the locations of the tunnels without causing their collapse. If the Aerugeans could use tunnels in their land to move without being seen, Alphonse was sure the Amestrians could use the same trick to their advantage. The first mission, the one they would be pulling off tonight, would be to come out behind the primary Drachman line and take out the road and large bridge directly behind them.

"How's it going, Felix?" Al asked Russell Tringham's younger son. So far the young man had proved willing and capable, and humbler than his father. Al liked him. He also had a knack for manipulating plants and earth.

"I've got this entry way shored up," Felix replied as the blue transmutation light faded and they were left once more in the dim light that came from flickering torches and flashlights.

"Done down here," the voice of Ragnar Arronson, one of the alchemists closer to Sara's age, came from further down the tunnel. "I think we're less than ten feet from breaking to the surface again."

"Good," Al made his way slowly through the gloom, trying hard not to duck. The ceiling was high enough that he couldn't bump his head on it, but that didn't make it feel like it might! It had been a while since Al had spent any time running around in empty mines. "Don't go through yet. The plan is to make the move a couple of hours after dark once everyone is settled."

"We know the plan, True Soul," Ragnar chuckled as he appeared almost out of nowhere from around a corner.

Russell Tringham himself, Chambers, and Byrnes – all from Roy's unit – joined them in the break from work. "The secondary tunnel is ready to go," Russell told him with a smug grin. "Our team will be ready to block off the entrances again as soon as the strike team is finished."

The strike team would consist of Alphonse himself, Roy, and Alex Armstrong. Why? Not only because they were the most experienced when it came to massive destruction, but – frankly – because they wanted to do something other than sit around and act like commanders instead of alchemists! Al had laughed when Roy put it that way privately the other night. It was true though; they were alchemists – _just_ alchemists – in this war, and it felt good to be striking back. Not that Al had needed any encouragement! Any step towards driving back the Drachmans, that hurt them, felt oddly satisfying.

"Glad to hear it," Al replied. Al and Roy's units would be manning the two tunnels they would use for their attack. The third unit – Armstrong's – would be ready to serve as back up on the destruction of the bridge and the road as well as serving as a distraction if necessary to keep the Drachmans from interrupting the operation before it was complete.

A loud grumbling growl made him turn his head sharply to look to his left. It was Chambers, who shrugged sheepishly. "Sorry! We worked through lunch, remember?"

Al glanced at his pocket watch. In the dark, working away with alchemy to avoid the obvious noise of pick-axes, the alchemists had spent days preparing the tunnels. Today's final push had taken them from right after breakfast nearly till dinner. At this rate, the mission would begin in only a few short hours!

"Good work everyone," Al nodded. "Let's get back, eat, rest, and get ready for tonight." Roy and Alex were polishing up their parts of the plan while Al oversaw the final preparations. It was almost sure to succeed. Al knew there was always the possibility of failure, but cocky as it sounded even to himself, the plan seemed fool proof. Two tunnels coming out where they had verified no Drachman scouts, over a half a mile behind the back of the Drachman encampment. Himself, Roy, and Alex making use of Drachman superstition as well as using a sizeable display of alchemy to take out the bridge _and_ the road; Al did not say so aloud, but it honestly sounded like fun. It was as ambitious and ostentatious a plan and display as he and Edward might have cooked up as boys.

"All right!" Felix bolted for the exit eagerly, followed quickly by most of the younger men, though those older were no less eager, just less likely to waste energy.

"Ready for tonight?" Al asked Russell as they came out into the watery sunlight that seemed to want to poke from behind thick gray clouds only in brief moments. At least there were a few rays this afternoon.

Russell looked a little grim, but it lasted only a brief second. He grinned and shrugged. "I've been in tougher spots; usually dealing with Edward. I figure as long as he's not around I'm safe."

_That's not what your eyes and tone say, old friend. _Al smiled. "Well it's old hat at this point isn't it? Though combat's not the same as getting shot at a bit on an adventure." Once, Al would not have understood the difference. That day was long in his past. "Or maybe it's Felix you're worried about." That seemed more the mark.

Russell looked sheepish. "Am I that transparent?"

"Just like Ed," Al smirked.

Russell glowered, but it didn't last and seemed less than half serious. "I'm worried about both of the boys," he admitted. "Even though they've both been in combat now. _This _kind of combat is new to all of us. It's not just a matter of skill against one opponent, or a handful. It's not alchemist on alchemist yet either. I worry about Lyssa too, and Fletcher." He shook his head. "Maybe him most. He's always been such a peace-loving laid back guy. He hates conflict."

"He can handle himself," Al replied. "Besides, he's in Ed's unit." If nothing else, his brother would do everything he could not to let anything happen to any one of his own men.

"Yeah, I still think Ed's crazy for taking him," Russell shrugged. "But I know he's probably safer assigned there than just about anywhere else, even if that runs against all logic."

Al couldn't help chuckling. "It does doesn't it? With all the trouble Ed gets into somehow he always gets out of it again, and so does pretty much anyone stuck in it with him."

"It defies nature," Russell snickered. "Or maybe equivalent exchange somehow."

"Don't tell Ed that," Al warned him. "He gets really antsy if you start talking equivalent exchange."

"Not that I blame him," Russell said. "It's one of the few constants alchemists can believe in."  
_  
One of them._ Belief was another topic best not discussed with Ed, though he wasn't as violently twitchy about it as he used to be. Al had been surprised when Ed thanked him for the annotated book he'd sent with him to Xing when he went to get his heart treated. Not that they had talked much after that either on the subject. Still, for a while Ed had seemed more at peace with himself and the world. If nothing else, he was much less self-destructive, and for that Al was grateful. Perhaps selfishly, he was tired of trying to hold the entire extended family together in times of crisis. At least this time, they were all in this together. "Yeah," he agreed simply. "I'm worried about everyone too," he admitted in a commiserating tone. "At least before it was usually just me and Ed running into danger; not the kids or anyone else."

"Just about everyone in your family is up here somewhere," Russell agreed with a sympathetic expression.

"Mostly from Ed's side," Al pointed out, though he knew it didn't make much difference. "I left most of mine home. Will's up here." Elicia, Alyse, Gracia, Ren, Minxia….all the girls were safe at home, where they belonged. Sara and Winry couldn't be counted among them even if he included them; they knew how to take care of themselves. "I hope he's all right."

"Of course he is," Russell chuckled. "If you and Ed trained him he's probably making the Drachmans sorry they ever got near him."

Al smiled half-heartedly. "I hope so. I didn't have the heart to try and make him stay home. Not that he would have anyway… but the longer we're out here, the longer it's clear we're going to be at this a long time. He's already missing out on so much thanks to these bastards."  
Russell nodded. "He and his wife are expecting a second aren't they?"

Al nodded. "I'm proud of him for coming, but I'd have felt better if he was home with Ren and Minxia." The idea of losing his son was only worse when he considered leaving Minxia and the unborn without their father. Al wouldn't wish growing up without a loving father on anyone. . "But then, that's why we're here isn't it? To make sure everyone else has a future that can be safe and happy, instead of oppressed."

Russell snickered. "Damned straight. So we'll show them. In Amestris, even the old dogs have fangs. So let's eat and get ready to make them pay."

"Sounds good to me." Al felt his spirits lift a little as he followed Russell into the mess tent and got in line with the rest of the alchemists. Tonight's mission would have a few soldiers as armed back up, but not many. "Tonight we'll show them." He didn't dare say nothing could go wrong. He knew better. Even if he didn't believe in jinxing something; he didn't want to say anything someone else might say had done it later. It just seemed prudent.

* * *

Roy Mustang definitely considered the weather that night to be good luck. Waiting in the dark of one of the tunnels, with barely six inches of about-to-be-transmuted rock between him and the fifty yard sprint to the bridge, Roy was grateful that tonight it was cloudy, but not hinting at rain. _If ever I needed a night to be dry. _The bridge that was going was, thankfully, mostly heavy wood, and would burn beautifully once it got going. That was one of his two critical objectives tonight. Torch the bridge, and help Armstrong bring down the mountainside to block the road on _both_ sides of the ravine. Their explosive projectile dual-alchemist attack should do the trick for those.

He didn't need to see to feel the hulking presence of Alex Armstrong just behind him. "Funny," he chuckled softly. "Two sensibly retired men and here we are, getting involved in another war."

A warm chuff of air wafted behind him as the Strong Arm Alchemist chuckled at the same irony. "Be it acts of chivalry or sheer stubbornness, we could do no less, could we?"

"I vote on sheer stubbornness," Riza's soft sardonicism held a note of fond amusement. "With possible delusions of importance."

"Then why are _you_ here?" Roy teased.

"Someone has to keep you in one piece," Riza sighed, and he felt her brush against his arm on the other side from where Alex loomed. He was grateful for her presence; and not just for the warmth. Somehow he didn't worry about Riza's safety on the battlefield. Anyone who tried to take her out was likely to find a bullet down their barrel before they got a shot off. Riza was doing her usual job tonight of sniper; in this case keeping any Drachmans off his and Alex's backs while they did their jobs. There were folks assigned to Al's team as well.

Roy reached down, finding the hand that wasn't holding on to her rifle in that moment, and gave it a squeeze. He would have liked to have been able to see her, but this way when they charged out into the night, no one would have to worry about their eyes not adjusting quickly. "I'm glad it's you. I stink at it."

Riza and Alex both chuckled. Behind them, Roy heard the shifting feet of the rest of his and Alex's alchemist units and the handful of snipers waiting in case the Drachmans showed up when the show started.

They were just waiting for the right moment and the signal which, in their case, was when they heard the tunnel Al was in blow, which should be just after eleven-thirty. Midnight had seemed too stereotypical.

Down the tunnels behind him, almost inaudible, came the boom, and the reverberating stone told them all they needed to know. "All right," Roy snapped his fingers as he heard Alex smack his fists together. "Let's give our friends outside a little trouble!"

Another alchemist behind them smacked their hands to the transmutation circle on the wall, and the rock in front of them seemed to flow away, leaving a large open doorway. As one, the unit charged through.

It was almost as if they had never left Ishbal; aside from the lack of screaming civilians being slaughtered. Roy and Alex still made a flawless team. First up as they charged into the open area through which the road ran up to the bridge over the ravine, they used explosive rock projectiles to block the road on the far side first. The wall of rock above the road on that side caved, rocks sliding down to completely block it off. That would take care of the incoming reinforcements and supply trains for a while. Now to really mess with them. Roy turned his attention to the bridge and Al, who was charging through the darkness from the other direction, hands coming together. Moments later a large whirlwind rose up in the darkness, barely visible in the clouded dark, but definitely imminent! Roy snapped, and as they had done in Xing, the whirlwind was suddenly _very_ visible as the pillar of fire marched onto the bridge, setting it ablaze even as it began to rip it apart, breaking robes and shaking stones loose!

_Now_ they had the attention of the Drachmans in their camp. Roy could hear the hue and cry of the night guards patrolling, even along the back of their camp nearly a quarter mile away. The sound carried well down to the steep-walled road.

"Looks like we're about to have an audience!" Alex bellowed as Roy turned his attention back to the towering man. "When do we want to blow this side of the road?"

"Not until they're in visual range," Roy reconfirmed. "We want them to _see _the bridge going up before we cut them off utterly." This was as much psychological warfare as anything else. When the Drachmans saw _how_ completely they were cut off, the hope was that it would not only damage morale, and cut them off from supplies even if it didn't cut off all communications by radio, but it would drive home how isolated they really were, in enemy territory, with the Amestrians who were not using completely conventional tactics!

Not that they could look like they were waiting for the Drachmans. That was where things got creative. Some of the soldiers charged out with them, setting off a couple of rounds of shots that echoed off the rock walls and made it sound more like an engagement or surprise attack. It took a few minutes, but the Drachmans would be on them shortly he was sure.

As Roy sent another gout of flame at the already impressively burning bridge, he finally heard the sounds of feet running at quick-march. "I've got to hand that much to them," he smirked. "At least they don't act surprised."

"Well let's give them something else to chew on," Al suggested with a wicked grin as he caught up with Roy again. "They'll have to be better than us to try and put out the bridge."

They would be fools to think that the Drachmans wouldn't bring their alchemists into play tonight. Though Roy still hoped to be gone before their alchemists could do much offensively. This wasn't about engaging the enemy in a night battle. "They don't stand a chance," Roy scoffed. "Aaand…. Here they come!"

In the light given off by the bridge, it was easy to see the Drachman line when they came around a bend in the rocks and into sight. "Ready for it?"

"Ready," Alex grinned standing behind Roy and Al.  
The rain of exploding rocks, carried even further than usual thanks to Al's little air boost, took the Drachmans completely by surprise. They had just enough time to get a really good look at the Amestrians in the light, the burning bridge that reflecting wonderfully off the rocks surrounding it, and the collapsed walls on the other side of the bridge. Then they were shouting and backing up quickly as rocks began to rain down around their heads.

A sudden boost in the wind sent a few Drachmans stumbling backwards as the boulders grew in size, the cliff face collapsing, half-blocking the roadway. Al's work most likely. Sympathy or coincidence? Given Al's dislike of Drachmans, Roy doubted it had been purposefully humane, even coming from Al.

"Damn it," Roy grumbled, holding up his fingers. "We'll need to do another round." He had hoped the entire thing would be blocked in one go.

The Drachmans recovered faster than anticipated. Charging through, there was suddenly an actual fire-fight breaking out between the very few soldiers that had come with the alchemists, and the Drachmans.

"Shit," Russell Tringham ran up to join them. "Take them out! The bridge is collapsing now. It's done. Even if they stopped it cold it would collapse."

"Good, then we're done here," Alex commented firmly. He slammed his fists together and Roy almost didn't get his flash off at the right moment. Then the projectiles were hurtling through the air again, slamming into the other cliff, and debris went flying as the face almost exploded instead of just collapsing!

"You're pushing too hard," Roy complained.

Al shrugged. "Sorry." Not that he sounded like it in this particular instance. "Complain later!"

The shouts and screams of the Drachmans caught in the second rock blast carried loudly in the night. Behind them, Roy could hear scrambling, then he saw a pale glow that looked like the alchemists had arrived. "Let's get that bridge down and get things out of here!" He spun and headed back for the entrance they had come in through.

The other alchemists on the team had been feeding the bridge fire as best they could or helping push back the Drachmans. Now they retreated as they could.

"One more thing," he heard Al behind him and turned to see that Al hadn't headed back towards his own entrance yet.

"Get moving!" Roy shouted incredulously.

"Just a minute!" Al retorted, and he slammed his hands together and dropped to the ground. The entire jumble of fallen rock seemed to glow, then it faded. On the other side, the sounds of small transmutations having any effect…ceased. Al stood and trotted back towards them, panting but looking grimly pleased. Or maybe that was the odd firelight.

"What did you do?" Alex asked as they all got back into the tunnels. Behind them, other alchemists closed the doorways once more. When the Drachmans got through, which they probably would eventually, they would find no signs at all of how the Amestrians had gotten in, or out.

"Changed the alchemical make-up of the rocks….ten times," Al smirked. "Each layer is something different, and the density of the first four are almost impossible to blow through. They'll be banging their heads against that thing for days if they want to waste the effort."

"Brilliant…and mean," Roy barked a laugh, ignoring the stitch in his side from all the running as they moved at a brisk pace through the tunnels, finally bothering to pull out flashlights now that it didn't matter. It would take some time to wind back to base camp, even without the need for quiet or caution. "That's wily enough to be one of Ed's ideas."

"Let's just say he was my inspiration," Al chuckled. "The more sadistic the better in this case."

"Unless it's so difficult they give up on it more quickly," Riza pointed out, ever the sensible one.

"Oh you're always spoiling the fun," Roy sighed, though he smiled over at her.

In the dim light, Riza rolled her eyes. "We want them to be distracted by our little diversion and panicked, not give up and redouble their efforts."

Al's expression dropped. "I didn't consider that," he admitted.

"It'll be fine," Roy assured him. "They've got alchemists right? Even if they're mediocre alchemists, have you ever known one who didn't enjoy beating his head against a wall?" Himself included. "Well… maybe enjoy is too strong a word."

"You have a point," Al agreed. "Besides, they need that road open if they want supplies or reinforcements. Even if they try and push harder against us, they're now working with much more limited options and they'll run out of food and bullets eventually if they're not careful. Desperation leads to mistakes."

"Is everyone all right?" Riza asked with a firm voice that could be heard through-out the tunnel.

Roy realized he had forgotten to ask. "Any casualties?" He added his own sharply barked question.

"No casualties," Ragnar Arronson's voice carried to them, "Only minor injuries."

That was a relief. Roy had come through unscathed save for being more tired than he would ever admit to anyone. The entire scene hadn't taken more than twenty minutes, but he had been running from place to place, moving, and doing a lot of high-energy transmutation on a level he honestly hadn't had to use in years. "Good," he replied. "Well done, everyone."

"Indeed!" Alex boomed, his voice echoing down the passage ahead of them. "Excellent work! Why I've never seen such-"

"I think they get it," Roy cut the man off before he could launch into a long, flowery, and utterly unnecessary speech. "Let's all report back to Brewster and Bloch and call it a night before the sun comes up." Maybe he could still get some sleep before the Drachmans organized enough to start shooting while they were pissed off.  
The meeting with the Generals was blessedly short. "Good work," Maria smiled tiredly at them. "We've already got men on the lines in case of an early attack, though I doubt we'll see anything much before dawn."

"We heard the bridge go from here," Brewster replied, grinning over a cup of coffee. "The rocks too. What a lovely racket!"

"Glad you enjoyed the show," Roy snickered.

"We left things in a nice state of chaos," Al added, looking satisfied. "When do you want us back on duty?"

"I want you all asleep as long as you need if possible," Brewster replied. "It won't do us any good if we work you guys into the ground."

"It's worked before," Roy commented with a sardonic smirk.

"Not that you're suggesting it's a bad idea," Riza looked up at him.

"No, of course not," Roy shook his head, then smirked back. "I'd love to see the inside of my damp, chilly tent instead."

"Incorrigible," Maria shook her head. "Flame, True Soul, Strong Arm; your units are off-duty until tomorrow." There were two more alchemist units in their camps at the moment. Younger alchemists the lot of them; less experienced but far from inexperienced. They had already proven capable enough; and far better than the Drachman alchemists. If only they weren't outnumbered.

The meeting broke up minutes later, and Roy submitted to Riza's insistence that they go by the mess tent with the rest of the alchemists to get some of the food left out for them. "You need to eat," she scolded, chivvying him into a chair.

"At home you gripe about my eating habits," Roy teased as he dug into the hot plate of fairly bland meat and potatoes. At least it was meat!

"At home you laze around the house if you aren't teaching," Riza pointed out, poking him in the shoulder with one finger. She sipped the cup of coffee she had gotten for herself. "You're burning energy at a might higher rate."

Around them, the other alchemists were all tucking into their food as if they hadn't eaten since yesterday instead of having actually eaten that afternoon. Given how much work they had all done this evening; even if it hadn't been one of the blatantly apparent destructive forces involved, they all needed to replenish their stores.  
Roy smiled at her as he ate. "Yes ma'am."

"Cheeky," Riza sighed, then leaned over and kissed his right cheek.

Roy paused in eating to take a long drink of his own cup of coffee. He stifled a yawn. He would not show weakness – of any kind – in front of the men. It didn't matter that they were all feeling the same; he just didn't have it in him; not after years of keeping it hidden. Very few people had seen him in a weakened condition; forget  
the fact that three of them were in the room with him. "Always," he retorted after swallowing.

"Good," Riza nodded. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I would," Roy countered.

"You would?" Riza looked startled. Good, he wanted to catch her off guard.

"Sure," Roy winked at her – making the gesture slightly larger than live to differentiate it from blinking with one eye. "I'd rather you have me in several other ways."

It earned him a slap in the arm, but it was definitely worth it!

* * *

**  
Author's Note**: Much thanks to the responses from folks about the question in last weeks post regarding changing the posting schedule. Having just deal with my first round of graduate classes for the semester, I believe I am, in fact, going to cut down to one post a week as the regular schedule for now. This will allow me to continue to keep (and hopefully build up) my current buffer of written chapter drafts to continue regular posting, without losing my mind or worrying about rushing through writing the story. The story is currently in no danger of being stopped or of having problems with having something to post. I wish to keep it that way. :) This does not mean there may not occasionally be specials or _extra_ posts for things like holidays! For now expect a chapter a week for certain, and I will continue to make that posting date _Tuesdays_. When I feel I can go back up to a twice a week schedule, I will. Thanks everyone who replied for being so understanding!


	11. Chapter 11

**June 1****st****, 1963**

Sara ignored the anxious fluttering in her stomach as she walked out of the "war-room" tent. In the distance she could hear the engagement of Drachma shooting at the walls of the city, and the counter-argument of alchemical transmutation. There was so much alchemy flying lately she could almost feel it electrifying the air. It was so strange, especially compared to the Aerugo War. Using alchemy in combat didn't feel wrong, but it definitely felt strange on such a massive scale.

"Sara, wait up!"

She paused and turned, smiling as Franz caught up with her in several long strides. No longer forced to be official, she turned and hugged him tightly for a moment before they both began walking towards the barracks tents. "Do you think this will work?"

Franz looked thoughtful for a moment, but nodded without hesitation. "I think so. Right now the Drachmans are already engaged on two fronts, and they've been trying to crack North City for a while now with no luck. I think General Breda's right; if we reoccupy the city now and make a strong push, they'll have to give up on taking North City and the train depot."

Sara nodded. That was her thought on the matter as well. "I'm glad the reinforcements from Southern Headquarters finally arrived. They'll give us the edge we need to really do this." The majority of Southern Headquarters' active soldiers had arrived just a few days before, along with a couple more late-coming alchemist units; less experienced alchemists that had been given a little more time to train before coming to the front.

"Be careful out there," Franz replied, looking worried.

Sara couldn't help smiling as she slipped her arm around his waist. "I always am," she pointed out. "Besides, the Drachmans haven't been anywhere near as inventive as the Aerugeans were; and even less than we were when we had to go in there. They've been utterly predictable and General Breda's going to have them dancing along to his tune by the end of tomorrow, just you wait and see."

"You have a lot of confidence," Franz chuckled, his own arm going tightly around her shoulders.

"Amestris has never lost in my lifetime," Sara pointed out. "Nor even before that under Fuhrer Bradley, however much trouble he caused and how dubious his reasons. We're a military state, in mindset even though it's no longer the reality. So long fighting, it's what we know how to do to keep our home in peace. Attacking a state with such a strong military seems to me about the most foolish thing anyone could do. Even more because we have alchemists!"

"Humble ones too," Franz teased.

Sara elbowed him in the side. "No other country in history has ever fielded an army of trained alchemists, Franz. You've seen what we can do. The Cretans might have long ago back into their mythology, but they have almost no alchemists now. The Aerugeans have few, and those mostly self-trained if they've survived. Drachma fears them; whatever their current agreement. The average Drachman doesn't trust alchemists going back for generations. In Xing they focus on using alchemy for healing, for creating medicines and helpful purposes. Perhaps they have the best choice among them all. But we're unique here. Amestris has the widest variety of trained alchemists; and yet we all have common combative training that makes us useful in a combat situation even for the alchemists who aren't natural fighters. They won't break out of fear, panic, or make a situation worse."

"Hey, I'm not the one that needs convincing." Franz squeezed her tighter. "I'm the one who saw a fourteen year old girl shoot ballistics out of the air with the air and light itself, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." Sara felt a fond twinge of nostalgia. Even war had been simpler when she was a kid. "So, are you off for the rest of the day?" She could hope; they hardly got to spend any time together, even sharing the same tent in the same war zone. It was rare for them both to even get to sleep more than a couple of hours together in the same bed.

"I wish," Franz sighed regretfully. "This is my first break today, but General Breda's got meetings and sessions for the next four hours and then an inspection where he wants me to keep the details recorded for him."

"No rest for the literate with neat handwriting, huh?" Sara quipped. "Well, does that break include enough time to grab a cup of coffee or do I only have time to drag you into the tent and make out?" No break would be long enough for anything more.

"While I like the second option a lot, I think I might have time to finish a cup of coffee…if I don't mind burning my tongue," Franz replied. "What about you?"

Sara sighed. "Actually I have to report to Kane in half an hour for our unit strategy meeting and then after that for one that includes all of the alchemists involved in tomorrow's offensive."

"I thought as much." Franz steered her towards the nearest mess tent. There were several to accommodate multiple divisions. This one wasn't the one the alchemists usually used, but it was the closest. "Let's get a drink then and pretend for a couple of minutes we don't have to be elsewhere doing the jobs we love so much."

"I like that idea." Sara was grateful to have Franz along on this war. Somehow, she felt more connected with the world. Perhaps that was also because they were still on home soil. Aerugo had been so strange to her. "We need to remember to write another letter home tonight."

Franz looked guilty. "If you get it started before I get back, I'll add my part on to the end." They tried to write to the kids every few days. Sara had carefully tucked the letters they got from Trisha and James into a book to keep them smooth. Trisha's loopy scrawl was easy to read and filled pages with everything they were up to.  
James couldn't really write yet except a few works and to sign his name; but he did that on every letter.

"Good," Sara tried not to choke up thinking about the kids. She and Franz were fine; nothing was going to break apart their family. Especially not the invading Drachmans. "They'll be glad to get it."

"They'll be happier to see us when we get home," Franz commented softly.

"I know," Sara replied as they both paused. She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder. "Which is why we have no choice but to succeed."

**June 2****nd****, 1963**

While the _re-taking_ of North City was not what Edward would have called a rout of the Drachmans, it definitely went as smoothly as Breda had devised. A rare occurrence when it came to military actions. At first light, the Amestrians began an all-out bombardment, pushing hard and advancing to shove the Drachmans back around the outside of the walled city. As they did so, the military hospital, bureaucracy, and anyone else not immediately involved in the fighting, moved back inside and set up in their previous locations, taking in the injured as they could be brought.

It went so smoothly, Edward guessed – not without some modesty – because of the strong presence of the State Alchemists. The Drachmans were simply over-powered; their alchemists included. "You'd think they'd try something new," he commented to Breda later as they sat in the reoccupied war room in the bottom floor of the office building they had used previously.

"They're even less creative and more set in their tactics than I realized," Breda admitted.

"Which worked in our favor," Falman commented as he bit into one of the sandwiches that had been on a large platter brought in earlier from the mess hall. The tray was almost empty now. "We have a new established line well beyond the city wall. I'd say that's quite the accomplishment."

"It's amazing how fast the engineers were able to get that up," Breda agreed.

"Not so amazing," Kane grinned smugly. A good number of alchemists had been involved in working with the engineering corps to erect a wall even as the Amestrians pushed the Drachmans back; giving the Amestrians a fall-back point that was solid stone and metal and almost proof against any of the alchemical attacks the Drachman Alchemists had proven capable of using here so far. The grin faded after a moment. "I'd have been happier with fewer losses though."

Edward ignored the knot in his throat and sat still, chewing on a bite of his own sandwich while Winry worked on dislodging a small rock from his arm that had ricocheted into it during the fighting. Other than that, Ed had come out with just a few scrapes and bruises. But other alchemists hadn't been so lucky. They had lost four on the walls, bringing the total number of lost alchemists to ten. Not bad as a whole, but given it was not-quite ten percent of their alchemical forces, it was a grim number.

"We'd all be happier with that." Breda finished a sandwich. "What's the report on injuries and losses in relocating back into the city?"

Feury flipped to another page of numbers. "Twenty casualties, nearly three hundred wounded, Sir. Over all, low numbers."

Really, that wasn't bad given the thousands of soldiers, doctors, and the few remaining civilians in the city that were involved. There were still already hundreds dead; though Ed would have estimated Drachman losses into the low thousands already. It had to be twice what the Amestrians were losing, and yet they kept coming.

"Let's keep them low," Ed finally commented.

"For now, let's keep the Drachmans _back_," Breda added. "I'd like to see if we can turn this success into the first step in pushing the Drachmans into further retreat instead of letting them re-entrench here." That would be tough, but it was what they would have to do eventually to get Drachma out. That, or beat them so soundly Drachma surrendered and retreated on their own. The chances of that happening seemed laughably low. Word from Intelligence was that the Drachman papers were claiming they were soundly defeating the Amestrians.

When the meeting broke up, Ed approached Kane as Winry packed up her auto-mail kit to follow. "What's the real final word on the alchemists?" He might not be in command, but Ed found himself wanting to know the fate of every individual alchemists fighting on the battlefield. For several reasons, he felt responsible for their being there.

Kane sighed, smiling wryly. "I knew you'd ask that." He quickly rattled off the injuries in the other units as well as the names of the four alchemists lost; three of them had been State Alchemists, and another one of the recruits. "On my end, Firebrand was protecting the hospital while they moved and didn't receive any further injuries. Will's going to have a nasty bruise on his right shoulder for a bit from getting near-trampled at one point during the push. Sara's got a graze-wound to the calf but it's more of a nick than a shot. It didn't even need stitches."

Ed let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "That's good. Any word on Aldon?" His son had been out there, putting up that wall. There were days Edward hated not being the end of the information chain.

"Sara found him when we got back in," Kane smiled patiently. "Exhausted like the rest of them but unharmed."

"Thank goodness," Winry smiled, clearly relieved, as she joined them. She had been with the hospital helping move and tend the injured the whole time. "We should go find him. Surely they'll be off duty tonight."

"If they aren't, I'll have the head of their commanding officer," Ed snickered. "Thanks, Marcus."

"No problem," Kane shrugged. "You're the only unit that came through without a single injury. As long as you keep putting in performances like today the least I can do is keep you informed."

"So this is performance based now?" Ed arched one eyebrow skeptically. Not that he meant it. Kane was kidding him.

"Of course," Kane nodded seriously. Then he smiled tiredly. "Let's all get some rest. Somehow, I don't think Drachma will be doing much shooting at us tomorrow."

**June 5****th****, 1963**

"Hey, what's that?" Tore rolled over on his barracks bunk and looked at Cal, who currently occupied the bunk below in their tiny room. Cal had a letter in his hands and seemed completely absorbed in it. "Who's it from?" So far Cal hadn't received a single letter that Tore was aware of. If he had to guess, it was probably from one of the dozens of girls out there who had the pleasure of Cal's company, even if he never got serious with any of them.

"None of your business," Cal replied flatly. He immediately began to fold the letter up and tuck it into his pocket.

"No fair!" Tore vaulted off the edge of the bunk onto the floor and reached out to snatch the letter. "I haven't gotten a letter in two weeks and I told you what was in mine!" Well, most of it. He'd actually received a couple of letters; usually from Gracia Hughes – odd as that seemed he was grateful that someone sent him news of Central – and a couple from Charisa. Those were strictly full of friendly concern and the occasional story of what their friends were up to. Several of them were now in basic-training as enlisted to come fight in the war. Tore wished them the best and hoped they made it through alive. "I know!" He grinned wickedly as he almost caught the edge. "It's from Alyse isn't it?"

The momentary loss of calm was all it took for Tore to verify. "Oh wow…it is!" He had been half joking until he saw Cal's face! "What does she say? Oh come on, man!" It was probably something perfectly friendly, not unlike the ones he got from Charisa. But if it was…why was Cal so recalcitrant?

Cal glared at him. "I don't care who your foster family is, you don't get to pry into my business just because you know the girl involved."

"Fine, I'll pry because I'm your buddy, in your unit, and we've got nothing better to do with the three days of quiet we've had around here save for drills." Ever since retaking the city, the alchemists had been given a reprieve. They weren't technically off-duty, but other than meetings and some practice to keep limber, they'd had a decent amount of time to themselves. Tore had been surprised – but not unhappy – to find that Angela hadn't tried to flee the city.

"Oh, geez, you're such a pain." Cal sat up, making sure the note was stuffed tightly into his shirt pocket. "Yes, it's from Alyse. She says hi, asks how I'm doing, and hopes I'll write back. There, you happy?"

Tore grinned, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. "Well you're sure uptight for revealing something as uninteresting as a friendly concern letter. I bet there's more than that."

"Nope, nothing," Cal shook his head firmly. "And unless you feel like getting into a duel and getting us both in trouble you'll just have to deal with it."

"Fine," Tore relented. "Is this the first time she's written?"

Cal looked slightly uncomfortable again, and Tore knew he'd struck gold. He was going to have to see if maybe Will or Ethan knew about this!

"No, not the first." But that was all Cal seemed inclined to say on the subject.

Tore had just opened his mouth to say something else when the door slammed open and bounced against the wall. "What the-?" He turned and saw Kieleigh panting in the door way. "Get moving guys!" She didn't wait for them to even acknowledge her. "Emerald wants us now!"

"So much for nothing to do," Cal snickered as he stood up.

Tore and Cal followed Kieleigh down to the small meeting room that was used alternately by various commanders. They weren't the only unit summoned however. Tore was surprised to see Fullmetal and his alchemists as well. "So what's going on," he asked as the door closed behind him?

It was Fullmetal who spoke. "We've received information that the Drachmans have a _third_ division of their military strength coming down from the border," he informed them grimly. "Only they're pushing southward into the north-western territory."

Tore felt an icy tingle in his spine. He knew that area pretty well. He'd spent most of his time wandering up in that direction. "How far out are they?" He blurted the question without thinking about propriety or rank. Not that he cared at the moment.

"They've got a couple of weeks of road marching under them," Fullmetal grimaced. "General Breda wants all of us on a train to Larendon first thing in the morning. The last Western Command troops are being diverted up there now instead of meeting us here. We'll be sending a division west as well, but they can't all fit on a train tomorrow. We'll be marching north from there until we meet up with the Drachman line" It would take several days to get everyone moved. "Once we're there, we hold them. They've already passed through several small towns out there."  
Larendon; Tore knew the town. He had a friend there.

"You all have the night off other than packing," the Emerald Alchemist spoke up then, looking around the room. "Report to the station at oh-eight-hundred hours tomorrow or there'll be hell to pay."

"Yes Ma'am."

Once final instructions were given they were dismissed. "Damned Drachmans," Tore cursed quietly as they walked back down the hall and out across the street back to the barracks. "How many of them are there?" When he got no response from Cal he glanced up, startled to see his friend's face had gone ghost white. "Something wrong, Fischer?"

Cal stopped moving for a moment. "My mother lives in Koldspur."

Now Tore understood. He hadn't been there, but the town was only about two days by train north of Larendon; several towns though. Tore had been all the way up nearly to Porto. Koldspur would have been next if he'd gotten that far. He didn't have time to respond though as Cal spun on heel and headed the other way. "Damn it…where you are going?"

"To find a phone!" Cal shouted back. "I've got to call her!"

Tore stood, stunned, for several moments after Cal vanished from sight. His memories of being that far north weren't fond ones. Porto was the town outside which he had been found half-dead after trying to save that girl, Missy, from that gang. What had the girl who'd found him been named again? Lainie? She was cute; he remembered that much. He was grateful Anita and her family had lived far enough south and east they probably wouldn't be directly affected.

Tore continued back to the room to pack, wondering if Angela was available tonight – she almost always was if he was – and, for a moment, if Lilah was all right. He hadn't thought about her much, but now, going back there, he hoped she was okay.

* * *

"I'm going to miss you," Winry said softly as she cuddled in Edward's arms, her own wrapped around his chest as they snuggled in bed. It was nice to be back in a real building with a real bed. Even in the summer the northern part of Amestris was chilly. It was just too bad the reprieve couldn't last longer. She had known, of course, that eventually they might well be separated, even up here, for part or all of the war. Now it looked like that time had come.

"As much as I'll miss you I'm sure," Ed replied with that surprisingly gentle tone he only used when they were alone, or he was feeling particularly emotional.

Winry snuggled closer against his warm, solid form. The firm muscles under her hands were reassuring as well as attractive. "You'd better take care of yourself while you're out there," she scolded gently. "Every time I let you out of my sight you seem to need extra care when you get back."

"Of course," Ed chuckled. "Otherwise what would you have to do?"

"Because I'm never busy, right." Winry smiled drowsily. Her stomach had been knotted with worry ever since Ed gave her the news earlier that afternoon. The relative safety of North City's walls no longer felt like much of a haven. The family would be split again. Only Al had gone East. Now only Ed was going West. Well and Tore too; at least for now. At least all of her children were still stationed in North City. Well, all of her birth children. "Take care of Tore."

"As much as I can," Ed promised, kissing her cheek. "Lyssandra says he's pretty good at keeping an eye out for himself as well as the rest of the unit. He and Fischer make a pretty good team. I'm not too worried about hm."

"_Too_?" Winry smiled knowingly. No matter the rough spots, Ed was still fond of the boy. Tore finally seemed to have accepted the offer that he was part of the family, blood relative or not.

"Well of course I worry some," Ed snickered. "He's almost arrogant enough to get his mouth shot off for saying the wrong thing in Drachman."

Winry just shook her head and closed her eyes. She was tired. It was late, and there were no short, simple days anymore. Auto-mail meant for the north was made of slightly softer metals than the rest; things that wouldn't become brittle in the cold. That meant they needed repairs more often; especially the minor ones. "Well then, I should be even more concerned about you."

"Nah," Ed chuckled quietly and Winry heard the lamp click off. Ed shifted again and she could feel his breath on her cheek. "You've got me too well trained. You know military dogs; we always come back willingly to the woman holding the leash."

"If you wag your tail at me Ed, I'll make sure you never forget it." She was tired, but she didn't want to let him go either. Sleep was time wasted instead of spent together.

She felt Ed's leg brush against hers. "If that's a promise, then I'll take you up on it."

**June 6****th****, 1963**

Morning came far too soon. Tore grimaced as surprisingly bright rays of sun came in through Angela's east-facing window and splashed unceremoniously in his face. He groaned and glanced over at the clock. He had an hour to make the train.

Angela rolled over, her eyes brightly alert, a sorry expression on her face. "I guess you need to go don't you? I'm going to miss you, you know."

"I'll miss you too," Tore smiled at her. Last night had definitely been one of their best. He'd passed out exhausted by the time they were finished. "So, if I'm back through here again can I … stop by?" He certainly hoped so. They were good together. Even the conversation was good.

"If I'm available," she smiled. "Let's not make this complicated Tore. It's just for fun after all. Besides," she chuckled, "I think an awful lot of girls are going to be after you."

"That wouldn't be new," Tore admitted with a grin.

"Well then they won't be disappointed. You're so easy to please, and I know guys in their late twenties who don't have this kind of definition." Her hand ran lightly down his chest and abdominal muscles. "You're such a giving lover."

"Thanks, Angela." It felt a little awkward, but he shook it off. That was all they had been after. He shouldn't feel bad for going off and doing his duty. Besides, she was right. He liked her a lot, but it wasn't love. He could die in the next engagement. Getting attached wouldn't do either of them any good. Regretfully, Tore sat up away from her and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "I hope you won't mind if I hope you're available then." He reached for his pants and began to drag them on.

"Not at all," she smiled easily. "I know I wouldn't mind if it happened."

Tore stood as he got his socks and boots on and went to reach for his shirt. He had brought his uniform and bag so he wouldn't have to go back to the barracks before heading to the train. "I'm glad." He turned and smiled at her. She hadn't gotten up, so clearly she didn't plan to see him off. This was goodbye. "Be safe, Angela, and thanks. You're great."

She looked momentarily flustered, but then it was gone as she smiled back. "Thanks. So are you."


	12. Chapter 12

**June 9****th****, 1963**

_Dear Cal,_

_It would seem trite to ask how you're doing on the front, or ask about the weather or anything useless. We get reports on the war almost daily from Daddy and from Will, and the letters the others send. I know what's going on more than maybe anyone who only reads the news or listens to radio; and maybe that's why I wrote. I know you're okay, or someone would have told me. They know we're friends. But still, I wanted to hear for myself whatever you'd like to tell. Are you sleeping well? What are your feelings about what's going on? I know the city isn't entirely deserted so I'm sure you've been scoping it out. Are there any decent places to get a respite from mess food? Is there any music? How's the company? Take care of yourself. I miss our talks, and your irascible sense of humor. I hope to hear back from you if you have a moment to write. _

_Fondly,  
Alyse  
_

_Alyse, _

_Wow, I wasn't expecting to get any letters up here. Thanks. Other than combat – which isn't so bad really; these Drachmans are pushovers so far – it's not too interesting. No, there's no good music left in North City. There are a couple of decent bars though with juke boxes and pool tables. Company's okay, though it's almost all soldiers and alchemists. The Shock kid's pretty cool, so we pal around some. Actually, the weather's not bad. Hate the wet though. It makes my leg ache pretty awful whenever a new front moves in. I'm getting used to it though. It's not so bad. _

_Thanks for writing,  
Cal _

_  
Dear Cal,_

Thank you for writing me back. I'm glad my letter got through. I'm sorry to hear the weather bothers your leg. Have you asked Aunt Winry if there's anything to help with that? You know. We've never played pool together. We should do that sometime when you get back. You still owe me for the last round of drinks you know. I hope you're not corrupting Terrence too much. He's a nice young man, even if he is a flirt. He's not as bad as you yet. Though I am glad he has a friend. Things are tense down here, and I have very little work to do lately with everyone on the front or focused on the war. State Dinners are rare in situations like this of course. I'm still planning the Patterson-Camm wedding scheduled for October. 

_Miss you,  
Alyse_

__

Alyse,

_I'm not that bad of a flirt! I am offended by your suggestion, Miss Elric, that I am a scoundrel or a cad. Besides, Tore doesn't need my help where corruption is concerned. The boy is a natural on his own. _

_Drunk on my night off,  
Cal_

_  
Dear Cal,_

_Thank you for making my point so well. Arguing with you is so much easier than most people! I'm not sure if your signature was meant to do that, or merely your excuse for the short response, but it seems to work well for both. Seriously though, take care. Promise me you're doing that much at least? I don't want you to die out there because you did something stupid. Or for any other reason. I forbid you to die. If you do who will I talk with when I feel like a night out? Who will I gripe to and banter with? You're so much easier to get along with than most guys. I appreciate our time together._

_Don't make me scold,  
Alyse _

_  
Dear Alyse,_

_I probably won't be writing for a while. As you'll hear soon if you haven't, my unit and Fullmetal's are going west to block the third Drachman incursion. I'm not sure I'll get mail quickly or have time to write._

_Take care,  
Cal _

Alyse's mind was completely wrapped up in Cal's last letter as she washed the dinner dishes at her mother's house that evening. It was dated four days ago. She knew from a phone call that the units had left on the sixth even though the letter had only arrived that day. It had been Aunt Winry who called her mother.

Alyse had worried about Cal along with her family and other friends ever since they had departed for the front. She had surprised even herself, however, with how much of her thoughts were stolen by those soft gray eyes. Her mind would stray to conversations they'd had, comments he made, moments where they laughed together. After the initial awkwardness of running into each other a few times, Cal seemed to have relaxed, and Alyse knew that they were friends now. At least, as much friends as she could be with any of her ex-boyfriends.

That was the part that had struck her in his absence; just how much she hated thinking of Cal as an _ex_-boyfriend. She had long ago begun to regret cutting off their relationship so hard and fast. Especially now that the reason no longer matter to her. Even more, she felt guilty. So many of the things she had liked about Vince, she had come to find over the last few months, were things that had reminded her of Cal, or that the two had in common and she hadn't realized. Cal liked jazz music; he really was a good dancer too. She had forgotten, though she'd never seen him dance like that at State dinners. He knew how to ride a horse, though they hadn't gone. He wasn't a sophisticated guy, but he was more cultured than she'd given him credit for initially. Not that it had mattered. The only difference between the two – ironically – had been that Vince was one of those _nice gentlemen._ He was the clean-cut guy you took home to parents and out to office luncheons.

She knew just how well now how wrong she had been on that score. Just because Vince was all those things hadn't meant it was a perfect match or meant to be. So why was Cal any worse of a choice? Okay, so there was a litany of faults; he smoked, he drank… a lot; he had a list of former – and sometimes not so former – lovers longer than the guest lists for some of the weddings Alyse had planned. He was brash, stubborn, flirtatious, moody…

So why did she have the horrible feeling she was falling for him all over again… for real this time?

"I think that dish is going to disappear if you dry it any longer," Ren chuckled from the kitchen doorway.

Alyse looked down at the plate in her hand. It was long past dry. "You're right," she felt sheepish as she set it in the rack and picked up another. There weren't many left. "Sorry."

"It's all right," Ren came over and joined her, picking up a fluffy, sage green dish towel. "Here let me help finish. You seem pretty distracted."

"I got a letter," Alyse admitted, willingly stepping over to make room for her sister-in-law…and her unborn niece or nephew. Ren was almost seven months pregnant now, and like last time, she was beginning to resemble a ball more than anything, though it was all baby. Ren was even more health conscious than Alyse sometimes, and normally trim and elegant. The transformation was rather dramatic. "From Cal Fischer."

"I see," Ren smiled. "Anything interesting?"

"Not particularly," Alyse replied, "Mostly an apology that he wasn't going to be able to write for a while because of being sent west with Uncle Edward and the others."

"So why the lost in thought?" Ren's expression said she had a clue.

Alyse had wanted to talk to someone about this for some time. It wasn't something she wanted to talk about with her mother though, or her grandmother. Sara might have understood, strangely enough. Lia was her first choice these days for most private chat; or the three of them together, her, Lia, and Ren. However Lia hadn't come over for dinner tonight. Friends of hers and Ethan's had invited her over and Alyse would never begrudge anyone a little outside of family socialization! Lia had even taken Trisha and James with her since her friends had a little boy who was five. "Because I'm afraid of repeating myself."

To her credit, Ren did not say something flippant or clever. While she was clever, she rarely said anything without considering the options and the situation. "Did you ever stop liking, Cal?"

"Well… no," Alyse admitted. It was something she could do now. She hadn't thought about him much during her four years with Vince, other than regret that he kept dodging her attempts to be friendly. She'd burned him badly, but she'd thought her regret had just been guilt. Now, she suspected she had been wrong. "I didn't, and I haven't."

"Are you still interested in Vince?"

"No!" Alyse replied sharply. He'd begged her to come back to him, and she'd declined. She still felt like that had been the right decision. Vince Miller had moved on. He hadn't pressed the issue after that either so she doubted he was any more in love with her now than he had been then; which was to say, clearly not enough. Alyse had learned the hard way what that type of infatuation could lead to. She'd let herself love Vince, tried to offer everything, and gotten burned.

"Then I don't see much of a problem," Ren replied sensibly. "Despite the rather striking resemblance; Cal Fischer is clearly not Vince Miller. From what you've told me he tells you straight up how he feels about things, and he's friendly enough now."

"But I… I'm afraid of trying to get closer," Alyse picked up the stack of dried plates and put them away in the cupboard. "He's so skittish I'm afraid he'll run again. I've got no reason to think he's still interested in me like that, even if he was before." He'd all but admitted it. "It took so much just to be friends. I want more, but…."

Ren's hand rested gently on her forearm. "It sounds to me like you're both dealing with issues of trust," she pointed out. "Right now though, he is learning to trust you. You also need to learn to trust _you_. A person doesn't really get to choose the emotions they do or do not feel, even if they control them. If you still feel that way about him, eventually the truth will be apparent. He's been honest with you. You need to be honest with him."

It made sense. "If I knew exactly what I wanted that would be easier," Alyse admitted. She couldn't ignore the strong attraction she felt. The odd ache she felt with him away, even after just a few short months of talking and hanging out as friends. But neither was she ready to throw herself fully into declaring she was in love with someone again. She'd been wrong once. There was nothing to say she couldn't be wrong again. Besides…. What kind of a match would that be? What kind of a husband would he be? A father… eventually that would probably happen. Alyse wanted children.

"If anyone knew exactly what they wanted I'd be amazed," Ren chuckled. "How was I to know what I wanted before I met Will? It never occurred to me growing up that I would fall for an Amestrian; let alone a man like Will. He's much more laid back than any of the boys I considered growing up."

"Considered." That was an interesting way of putting it.

Ren shrugged. "It's difficult to date when your brother has the authority to behead any of your suitors he doesn't like. Most of the young men I knew either wanted to marry me or were too afraid of Mao and my mother to try. I didn't have a lot of casual dates, and given my goals to be a doctor, that put off a lot of the more serious boys from more traditional families." Her expression softened to a fond smile. "Will was never affected like that. He took meeting my family so well. He didn't mind that I was a member of the Imperial family. To him, I'm me first. I went looking for an immaculately dressed, studious, serious, medical type Xingese male, and I found something so much better."

Alyse couldn't help giggling. "It's funny to her my brother held up as better than that, though I'm glad. Vince was everything I thought I wanted… and he wasn't. So I guess that means that really that wasn't necessarily what I wanted even if I thought I did, because I don't want it anymore. Or maybe," she clarified, realizing how strange that sounded, "maybe he wasn't really what I actually wanted…or needed, at all."

The dishes were done. "Maybe," Ren agreed simply, then stretched a little, then grimaced. "I think I may take Minxia home and turn in early tonight. This one likes to do gymnastics," she sighed, rubbing the side of her stomach.

Alyse gave her a sympathetic smile. "Then I bet Will will have a blast trying to change diapers," she chuckled. "Thanks for the insight. I feel better." She still had a lot to think about, but at least her head wasn't quite so jumbled. Besides, if Cal was unlikely to receive letters for a while, he wouldn't be expecting one. She had time to decide what she wanted to say next.

"You're welcome," Ren smiled back. "Would you like a ride home?"

"No thanks," Alyse turned the offer down gently. "It's a nice evening. I think I'll walk home a little later."

"All right," Ren nodded and headed into the living room. "Come on, Minxia," Alyse heard her call out. "It's time to get ready to go!"

Alyse followed her back into the living room, where Elicia and Minxia were playing a game of checkers. It looked to Alyse like her niece was winning.

Minxia helped put the game up without argument before following her mother out the door. When they were gone, Alyse sat down in one of the comfy chairs. "Did Aunt Gracia leave already?"

Elicia nodded. "She wanted to get a couple of things done at the house before Lia brings the kids home." Aunt Gracia had, for all intensive purposes, partially moved back into her old house most nights of the week to keep an eye on Trisha and James. It had been less traumatic that way, though some evenings Lia stayed there, or Ren, or her mother. Alyse had done a few turns _sleeping over_ as well. They did their best to keep it fun for the kids, who obviously missed their mother and father.

Alyse sighed. "This might sound selfish, but I wish everyone would come home."

Her mother smiled. "We all wish that, everyone who's up north right now included."

That was true. "Still, I hate it when things like this happen. The last war, Aunt Winry and Uncle Edward almost split up, Dad was a mess when he got home, and it took a couple of years before anything felt normal again. I actually wish Dad were here to try and scowl and tell me who I can and can't date. Silly isn't it?"

Elicia chuckled. "Not at all. Having someone else make a decision does tend to simplify matters. So, did you and Ren have a nice talk?"

"We did," Alyse nodded, then glanced suspiciously at her mother. "Did you hear it?"

"No," Elicia shook her head, "But I could probably wager a guess if you wanted me to."

"That's okay," Alyse replied. Really, she wasn't ready to talk about any of this with her mother yet. It was an odd feeling, given they had talked about just about everything most of her life. But right now, she still had more thinking she wanted to do first. "There wasn't much to it. So, you said you were going to show me the new quilt you just finished, right?" It was one she knew her mother had been working on for months.

Elicia grinned and stood, letting the subject slide. "Of course! That pattern took me forever to pin right."

Alyse stood and followed her mother towards the project room. Her mind, however, drifted back a little. _Dear Cal, how was trip west? I had dinner with my family the other night… _

**June 10****th****, 1963**

The town of Larendon looked little different from the last time Tore had been up that direction, though the circumstances of his arrival were drastically different, and it was now much more clogged with people; refugees fleeing the Drachman invasion. Tore couldn't help but wonder how many had stopped here, and how many were trying to keep going. Trains heading North had all but stopped the last few months. Was Lilah even still here?

Beside him, Cal looked irritable, much as he had ever since they left North City. The phone call to his mother had gone unanswered, and while Tore assured him that probably meant Cal's mother had vacated like so many others, Fischer seemed unconvinced. His frail, shy, mother was apparently his only remaining relative; at least the Cal seemed to give a damn about and vice versa. When pressed he admitted to having a couple of cousins on his father's side that he never talked to. Cal had been sending part of his military pay to his mother for her to live off of for years. "I told her she should have moved to Central years ago," Cal muttered under his breath around an unlit cigarette in his mouth. It was the fifteenth time he'd said that, or something like it, in the past few days.

"We'll find her," Tore reassured him again. "Someone probably got her out of there already."

Cal snorted. "In that hell hole?"

Tore dropped the subject. He was tired of arguing it in circles. They'd find his mother one way or another, dead or alive, and then it would just be done with.

"All right," The order came down through the car, "Everyone off the train!"

Tore stood up and gave Cal a shove so he could get past him. "Come on, let's go."

It took several minutes to wend their way off the train and meet up with the Emerald Alchemist, Fullmetal, and the others. The regular soldiers that had been able to be on the train the same day as them had already moved to a large open space usually reserved for trucks and loading and unloading goods on the train. They were unloading vehicles from the last few cars of the military train as well, already loaded to bear with supplies. They would bivouac here tonight, then head North in the morning. It was already late afternoon.

"We'll be camping with the soldiers," Fullmetal informed them, "Though we'll be going on ahead first thing in the morning to scout things out. Our orders are to find the Drachmans' specific location and do anything we can to stall them and rescue captives until the front can catch up."

"Hey, shouldn't military intelligence already know where they are" Finn , one of the alchemists on Edward's team, asked?

"We have a rough idea," Fullmetal gave him a slightly irritated look, "But they're moving quickly, and given the lack of communication we get from those back-water towns, they're probably cutting the phone lines or capturing people before they can get somewhere with a reliable radio."

Not that radio signal traveled well out here either. Tore had been surprised by how technologically scant the rural areas got. "So what are tonight's orders…Sir?"

"Enjoy your last free evening for a while," he replied with an ironic smirk, though the look he gave Tore specifically told Tore that he wasn't the only one who remembered who lived in Larendon. "Report back in by midnight and be at the trucks in the morning. We're taking two of them."

That would easily carry the ten alchemists and necessary equipment, though Tore was a little nervous about being the fore-front team. How were a couple of handfuls of alchemists supposed to hold an entire Drachman army at bay if they found it before the soldiers showed up?

He was still wondering that when the meeting broke up and he looked around. They had time before tents would be set up. One of the perks of being Alchemists – they often didn't have to do their own grunt work. The same crew that set up the officers' tents set up theirs; though they were sharing two and three to a tent. "So, you wanna get a drink?" He probably didn't even have to ask given the look on Cal's face.

"Sounds good." Cal paused and looked around. "Where should we try?"

"That one's good." Tore pointed towards the very building where he had met Lilah almost two years ago.

"I take it you've been there," Cal gave him a momentarily startled look.

"Yep." Tore responded simply. "Come on." He led Cal over to the building and walked inside. It hadn't changed much; clean, half empty in the late afternoon though he was sure it would be full of soldiers later. Right now it was more crowded than Tore remembered, but he would bet that a lot of the clientele were refugees. They certainly looked like it. Tore headed for empty seats at the bar. The barkeeper – Theo, Tore remembered his name was – turned around and looked at them both with an unreadable expression. "Soldiers huh? What'll it be?"

"Two mugs of the local dark wheat beer," Tore replied, remembering what he'd tried the last time he'd been in here.

Theo looked a little surprised. "You been here before?" He turned and poured the beer off tap.

"Came through a couple of years ago," Tore nodded with a small grin. "Wasn't in uniform then. Just passing through."

Theo gave him a long, hard look as he handed them their beers and Tore went ahead and paid for both. "You do look familiar."

"I'm an alchemist, if it helps," Tore offered as he took a sip.

Recognition lit in Theo's eyes. "Ah yeah. Don't get many alchemists up this way. I remember you now." He looked between them. "Both of you State Alchemists then?"

Cal nodded, picking up his beer and taking a long sip. "We are. Here with the troops outside to make sure those blasted Drachmans go back where they came from."

Tore became aware that they had the attention of most of the people in the room. He hoped that was a good thing. He knew there were at least a few Amestrians who'd rather toss the alchemists to Drachma in the hopes Drachma might go away. Obviously that wouldn't happen, but not everyone had realized that fact. "Say, is Lilah around tonight?"

Theo blinked, half way to a smug smirk before it faded and he shook his head. His expression was one of concern instead. "Sorry, fella. Lilah went north to visit family for a bit. She was supposed to be back over a week ago."

Tore swallowed. "How far north?"

Theo's expression was grim. "Koldspur."

Beside him Cal gasped. "Wait a minute… Lilah…Peterson?"

"You know her too?" Theo didn't seem surprised. "You come through this area before?"

Cal grimaced but he shrugged. "No… I…was a local, way back."

Theo gave him a sharp look. "You don't sound it."

"I've been gone a while," Cal replied, following the statement with a long slow swallow. He looked at Tore when he was done. "You never told me you knew Lilah Peterson."

Tore wasn't fazed. "I told you about the girl who _worked_ up this way. You didn't ask who she was. Besides, how did you know her?" He was fairly sure Lilah was a few years younger than Cal. But if they were both from the same town, that wouldn't mean much.

Cal snorted. "Her Dad was the foreman for the big coal mine. He got himself crushed in a cave in two years before I left. She and her little sister used to come in to pop's place to get groceries." He fell quiet then and finished off his beer.

Lilah was from Koldspur and over a week late coming back. That didn't bode well for anyone. "Are there any refugees from up that far?" Tore asked the question Cal hadn't.

"Not a one," Theo shook his head as he picked up a cloth and began wiping down a section of the bar. "Furthest north we've seen make it down this way is Porto and Tivoli. I think most of both towns have come through here the last few days. As well as half the other towns north of here. No one wants to be in the way when that army hits, even if it means no one's blocking their way."

"Well that's what we're here for," Tore assured him. "To head up and find the bastards and get them to go back where they came from." That was the long term plan anyway.

"Well said," someone commented from behind him.

Tore took another slow sip and waited to see if the room exploded or not.

Apparently it wasn't going to. The people fleeing before the immediate Drachman invasion clearly didn't care if they were State Alchemists or not. If they were part of the forces that would save their homes and families, they were welcome. It was, oddly enough, a friendlier reception that Tore remembered getting up near Tivoli. That was where he'd almost been beaten to death. Now didn't seem the time to bring it up though.

They had another round of beers before deciding to call it an early evening. It wasn't like there wouldn't be a lot to get done even if they technically didn't have to, and getting sleep before long days of travel was probably the smart thing. Tore left a gracious tip when they left. "So you knew Lilah," Tore commented absently as they  
headed back towards the now pitched campsite. "Did you ever…."

"Of course not," Cal shuddered. "She's four years younger than me. When I was chasing girls, Lilah was just a kid. Funny to think of her becoming a prostitute though. She didn't strike me as the type."

"Me either," Tore replied, feeling an odd bristling inside him, even though he knew it wasn't something Lilah would be upset to hear. "She's nice; sensible, seems like a pretty regular girl honestly."

Cal eyed him with some amusement. "Actually, I meant she had chicken-skinny legs and no chest to speak of, but yeah; she really always was too sensible too."

The alchemists' tents were pitched near the edge of the camp, with the trucks they'd be taking parked beside them. Tore, Cal, and Polansky shared a tent; Fines and Kieleigh shared the other for their unit. Polansky wasn't in the tent when they got there, but sitting out around a campfire drinking with Finn and Lordes, two guys from Fullmetal's unit with which he was close friends. Tore paused. It looked like fun. "Let's join them," he suggested. He wasn't ready to sleep yet, and it was just getting dark.

"No thanks." Cal surprised him, shrugging. "I think I'll take a walk, then hit the sack."

"Sure." Tore wasn't going to argue with him. He didn't really blame Cal for being worried about his mother. Tore still remembered how frantically he had wanted to find his when he was a little kid; though that seemed a long time ago even if it was only seven years. "Don't get lost," he added with a teasing chuckle.

Cal snorted and wandered off into the falling dusk. "I never get lost."

"Funny," Tore sighed to himself as he sauntered over to join the others, "I used to say the same thing."

* * *

As he lay in the darkness hours later, trying to calm his mind enough for sleep, Cal wondered if he should just give up trying. He had lied earlier. He could get lost…in the twists and turns of his own mind. He couldn't care less what happened in Koldspur. At least, that's what he'd always told himself. He _did _care about his mother. She loved him, however incapable she had been in protecting him from his father. Melvin Fischer had been a hard, bitter, stubborn man, several years older than Violet; a sweet quiet woman he had cowed easily. Cal had been their only child, something he was sure Melvin blamed on his mother.

He had never gone back to Koldspur except once, briefly, thirteen years ago when his father died unexpectedly in his sleep. Cal had only been a State Alchemist five years then. He'd tried to convince his mother to move to Central with him, but she had smiled and refused. She had been born in Koldspur, and there she would stay. It had been hard enough to convince her to take portion of his pay he sent for her to live on so she wouldn't have to keep slaving away. She sold the store and lived quietly. Though they had written regularly, and she had finally gotten a phone a few years ago. There had been new life in her by then, Cal noticed. His mother talked about her hobbies; knitting, quilting, having tea with other ladies in town. She had an herb garden and helped bake for the town festivals. Not an exciting life, but full of joy for her now. She talked of friends' grandchildren, and gently prodded from time to time, asking how he was; if he was behaving himself; if he had anyone special.  
It was only in those moments that Cal felt like he had failed her in some way even though he knew his mother didn't mean it like that. She knew he wasn't his father. She wanted him to be happy, to find someone to _take care of him_. The way, he knew, she had always wanted to take care of his father, of him; her only child. Really, he knew she wanted him to find someone stronger than she had been; a real partner for life. She never said it; but he knew she wanted to see him married, settled, with kids.

Laughable really. Cal couldn't imagine it, not anymore. He'd tried with Valeria and that had been a disaster. When he'd finally dared to think he might really try again… he'd been dumb enough to let himself start to fall for another good girl. No, it would never work.

So why did he keep Alyse's letters in his pocket?  
_  
Because she's the only friend who cares enough to write at all. _It was a pathetic excuse, he knew that. Back when he'd griped at Sara for telling Alyse the truth about their liaison years back, he'd told her he'd lost a chance at love. He'd been hung-over at the time, but he hadn't been lying. Before that, Alyse had seen him as something special, someone decent with a lot of qualities other people seemed to overlook. After… well now he wasn't sure.  
_  
._He tried hard not to think about the three weeks he had enjoyed the full attention of the lovely, unattainable Alyse Elric. Only afterwards had he realized how fast and how hard he'd grown complacent, falling into those deep green eyes. It had only made him feel like he'd been right all along.  
_  
I should have had more to drink; maybe I wouldn't be contemplating this. _What did it really mean that Alyse took the time to write him? How familiar her words were and how much he craved them? She had apologized before, and more than once, for hurting him. She had offered friendship despite his running from it for years. Now he couldn't help but enjoy her company. When her relationship with Miller ended he had tried to tell himself he hadn't been jealous of the guy. He was just mad that Alyse had gotten hurt. She was such a sweet girl. He had savored that innocence even though it had been what made her dump him in the first place. Now, she was a little older, a little wiser, a little sadder. Yet there was that endearing innocence. She was sophisticated and elegant, but playful too. She wasn't afraid to laugh a little, dance a little wild, or tease him. She didn't balk if he made a slightly crude joke. Or if she did she smacked him on the arm and told him to stop it. Yet there were lines she wouldn't cross, and he respected that. He hadn't been trying to get her in bed when they started going out before, no matter what he'd been accused of. He wasn't now either.  
_  
I'm always prepared. I never force a girl or lead her on, and I never touch virgins. _He'd been repeating that mantra for years. It always kept him safe. Or at least, that was what he had kept telling himself. It hadn't worked. What he should have said was _I never risk a real relationship where I might get hurt, because I'm a coward and a fool. _Alyse was right there. They hung out two or three nights a week sometimes and it was simple, easy. There was no tension… except in his mind and the fact he was certain she wanted more than that but was afraid of chasing him off again. She was good at diplomacy and dealing with people, but he was so used to seeing past people now he could still read her easily. She didn't put up walls around him, and that scared him more than anything else.  
_  
Am I really all that people say I am? Just a fly-by-night cad who can't commit? _He wasn't old. He was only in his mid-thirties. Plenty of soldiers he knew were still single at his age; hitting the bars, chasing skirts, not a care in the world outside of their next paycheck and a night's enjoyment. So why wasn't that enough for him anymore? The painful truth was it never had been, no matter how hard he tried to make it be. _How many of the girls I've been with could have really been something? _He didn't know. They hadn't been any more serious about it than him as far as he knew; but they could also have just not said anything when he didn't show further interest.  
_  
Great, now I'm second guessing every fling I've had since I was eighteen. _That truly was pathetic. He hadn't slept with all of them, but he supposed that really didn't mean much at this point. The past girls really shouldn't matter. It was the one in front of him he needed to deal with.

The one hundreds of miles away in Central, who wrote him letters signed _fondly_ and _miss you_. The one who looked like she wanted to gag every time he pulled out a cigarette, and never got more than slightly tipsy on a single cocktail. Yet she had somehow not ranted or raved even though he was sure it drove her crazy. What did it all mean? Was that a chance? More importantly, did he dare try and risk being shot down again, or hurting her in the process? He knew heartbreak. Now, so did she. He didn't want to do that to her again.

_Later. I can think about this later. _Right now he had time. He had a mission and his mother to save so she could continue to nag him about how he never brought a girl home to meet her. Maybe then… _maybe_… he would make a decision.


	13. Chapter 13

**June 14****th****, 1963**

Edward remembered the town he was in as _that town where Tore almost got killed. _Tivoli; it was just a little north of here that he had visited that little farmhouse and brought Tore home two and a half years ago. Now though, it had an entirely different feel. For one thing, it was nearly eighty percent empty. There were few people left; men of all ages – from teenagers to scruffy old grandpas – with guns, and a few bravely stubborn women who flat out refused to go. The two trucks full of State Alchemists had been given an armed welcome and only allowed to enter once they proved they weren't Drachmans. Fortunately that wasn't too difficult. Ed himself was very easy to distinguish. How many sixty-plus year old blonde guys ran around with two auto-mail limbs claiming to be State Alchemists anymore who could actually _do_ that level of alchemy?

"We're looking for the Drachmans," he explained that evening to the men currently in charge. "There's plenty of soldiers coming up just a couple of days behind us to help but right now we need to barricade as many towns as possible and find a way to stall them until we can make them sorry they decided to be unfriendly neighbors." It had taken them a couple of days to get up this far and so far they had seen nothing but a few people still fleeing southward.

"Well best we can tell they're camped up about a day north of Porto," Dan Riggers, a thick-set but muscular miner commented over a steaming cup of coffee. "So not even two days from here. Those of us that're left have been shoring up."

"You can't beat them alone," Ed pointed out, taking a sip from his own mug. "The best you can hope for is they occupy the place quietly or march on by. After all, they're here to stay if they can manage it. It doesn't do them any good if they destroy everything."

Riggers looked grim. So did the other couple of men with him. Ed had only brought four alchemists to the meeting; himself included. He'd brought Fletcher Tringham from his unit, and Lyssandra Fines had brought Cal Fischer. An interesting choice until Ed remembered that Cal was from up this way originally. That was probably part of why Breda had sent Lyssandra's unit specifically. "We're not going to just sit by and let them take over," the other man grumbled.

"And I'm not asking you to," Ed pointed out patiently. "Anyone who wants to fight is welcome if you can shoot and take orders. Anyone who doesn't want to kill will be helpful support. No one wants you to lie down and let the Drachmans walk all over you. Just please don't make yourselves targets unnecessarily. Before we leave tomorrow, we'll make sure to help shore up your defenses. We can strengthen the walls and make them taller, and thicker, and set up some other defensive strategies."

"In one day?" Vaughn, another swarthy mountain man, asked skeptically.

Ed chuckled. "Hey, this is what alchemy's good for. After all, what good is a tool if you don't use it in a way that actually benefits people?"

Riggers snorted, but looked at him contemplatively. "Alchemy for the people. I've heard it for years, but never seen much of it. We'll take your offer with gratitude and I look forward to seeing just what you're capable of."

Ed was used to rural folk – especially mountain people – being isolationist and wary about strangers. He didn't mind at all really. The offer was, for one of them, as much as saying the alchemists were invited guests or old friends in other places. He grinned and offered a hand to shake on it. "Then you and your men are in for a treat."

Riggers nodded, and shook back with a thick, hearty grip. "Any other questions you've got for us?"

"Did anyone make it here from further north?" Edward asked. "Porto or Koldspur or anywhere?"

"A few," Riggers replied with a nod. "We've got them safely tucked away in an inn in the middle of the city until we can get them transported out of here. Once the soldiers arrive, they should be safe enough, but it's mostly women and children so we haven't tried sending them on their way on their own."

Ed turned to Lyssandra and Cal. "Fischer, I'd like you to go talk to the refugees."

Cal looked surprised. "Me, Fullmetal?"

"You used to live up here," Ed nodded. "I'm counting on the fact you might know some of them and they might feel more comfortable talking about the situation with someone more familiar."

"Somehow I doubt it," Cal snorted softly. He didn't look pleased with the assignment. "I wasn't popular when I left."

"I'm not popular with a lot of people," Ed shrugged. "Sorry, but it needs to be you. Besides, they might have word on your family." He had heard about Cal's concerns for his mother. He hated to play that card, but he also knew that it was true.

"I'll do it," Cal replied though it was clear he knew he didn't really have a choice. "I'll take Shock and we'll see them this evening."

"Good." Ed nodded and turned back to the locals. He'd consider making it up to Whitewater later. "Now, let's talk about your current defenses…"

* * *

Cal wondered through the end of the dinner meeting if Fullmetal just wanted to torture him for some reason, but finally dismissed the idea. As soon as he was free he headed out to find Tore. At least he would have some company while he talked to terrified locals about the invading Drachman army and tried to get them to say something useful.

"The refugees are staying at the Stone Dog Inn," one of the young men in town, a kid of maybe fourteen by the name of Thadeus, said as he escorted them to the place. He barely looked old enough to be chasing girls, but he walked around with a rifle like he knew how to shoot with it, and he probably did. Cal would bet the kid had been hunting since he was old enough to hold the weapon and point it. "There's only about fifteen of them, including kids. They're all in the downstairs rooms in case the Drachmans show up and we get in a fire fight."

Not that it would do them much good, Cal thought, but then he supposed that was what happened when non-military trained minds tried to work out the problem. And it wasn't a terrible plan. "Well hopefully we can get them out of here when there are more men," Cal replied noncommittally.

The Inn was a fairly small place, with rooms above and below; the cheaper being below though it was clear that no one was currently paying for their lodging. Thadeus led them to the stairs. "They dine and spend most of the evenings in the downstairs common area," he told them, opening the door. "All is well," he called down.

"There're Amestrian soldiers here now! And more coming," he trotted down the stairs.

Cal glanced at Tore. "This should be interesting."

"You're the one who dragged me along," the younger man smirked impishly. "Lead the way."

Cal sighed and followed the boy downstairs. There were lamps down the hall, but people crowded into the entrance making it impossible for him to get a good look at them. The hall itself was not well lit.

In the dim light, one of the women hurried towards them. "Thank goodness you're here!" The plump blonde woman seemed relieved by the sight of men in uniform. She had short overly-styled curly hair and an outfit that would have been considered only a couple of years out of fashion in Central; and attractive if it weren't a couple of sizes too small. There was simply no comparison. "Will we be able to get out, officers? We-" she stopped cold as she came into the light, eyes going wide. "I…. who are you?"

Cal blinked, and his blood ran momentarily cold. No, there was no way this was… but those eyes. He forced his voice to calm. "The Whitewater Alchemist, Lieutenant Colonel Calvin Fischer, Amestris Central Command."

The look on Valeria's face was priceless. It had to be her; though this dumpy woman looked nearly ten years older than him now. Valeria had nothing on Alyse. _At least my taste has improved. _Behind her, with the crowd, he saw kids that were almost certainly hers; all blonde, and the three girls were her spitting image, haunting out of his childhood. Time had not been kind to her and, to his own surprise, he felt very little. He didn't know her anymore. He hadn't spoken to her in almost twenty years, more than half his lifetime. It wasn't even painful to see, except that he pitied her now. "Calvin… it is you!" Her eyes lit up then and brimmed with tears. Before he could respond, she threw herself into his arms sobbing horribly. "Thank heavens!"

What the hell? "Where's your husband?"

That had clearly not been the response she was expecting. Sniffling, Valeria looked up at him with an indignant sniff through teary eyes. "Dead last year. Andy got drunk and fell down a mine shaft."

"Wait… you married Andy Keller?" Cal was dumbfounded. After all that high-talk her parents had about a good match and money and Valeria's arguing that _his _ideas were unrealistic, she had married _Andy?_ The guy might have been good looking, but he had the common sense of a brick; a drunk brick. He was a control freak to boot and an ass-hole. Of course, given his family owned the biggest sheep farm in the area, he supposed to her family it might have seemed acceptable over a grocer. Too bad the guy in question was more like Cal's father than Cal was.

"Does it matter?" Valeria pouted slightly. It wasn't cute the way Cal remembered. "He's gone and we've been hiding here for days and I'm so scared!"

Cal pushed her back firmly but gently. "I'm not here to be your hero, Val. I got over you a long time ago." It was the most liberating, if strange, feeling to realize the simple truth in that statement.

Valeria's expression faded, the hope drifting on a look of shock. "So what are you going to do?"

Cal shrugged. "I'm a State Alchemist. I'll go stop the Drachmans so you can go home again." Sure it sounded simple when he put it that way, but that was what he was here to do after all. "It's my job."

"Of course." Valeria stepped back, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief. "Your job. Why else would you be here."

"Why indeed," Cal repeated flatly. His teen angst ex-girlfriend was not his primary concern. "Val, is my mother here?"

She looked briefly affronted again, then shook her head. "No, she's not. She refused to leave; said she was too old and she'd slow people down."

"And you_ left_ her?" Anger strong enough he surprised even himself weighed heavily in his words. He reined himself in when the others looked nervous. "I'm sorry… it…it's not your fault." He moved forward then, towards the other women and the children, who backed away to let him pass. Cal schooled his voice to reasonable and polite; his most gentlemanly and apologetic. "Good evening everyone. I'm sorry we have to interrupt you at supper. The military has sent us ahead to locate and detain the Drachmans, and there's a division of soldiers coming behind us to fight them back, but we could use any information you may have about the situation. Anything you know or may have heard or seen. I know it's difficult to talk about, but please, be brave."

He had always been told he was good with people, especially women. In this case, it seemed immediately true. Cal was amazed at how quickly a couple of the women – both older than him by a good ten years – came forward to tell him of what they had seen north of Koldspur. They had come from Rockford, a town just as small and remote, about a day's travel past Koldspur. When the Drachmans arrived they had demanded the town surrender at once or people would die. One man had tried to resist and been shot dead on the spot with no further warning. No one else had dared refuse, though many had fled in the night. The occupation had then moved on. They could only assume there were still Drachmans in the towns, because no one could get word through to them.

"That, or they're all dead," one gray-haired grandmother added with a soft tremble at the end of her tale.

By then, Cal and Tore were both sitting in chairs pulled away from the table, listening to the reports. Cal did his best to record everything to memory. Tore had brought out a small notebook from somewhere – probably one of the kid's sketchbooks - and scribbled details down frantically.

"That would work against what they want," Cal assured the woman. "They want to own Amestris, not move everyone down here. They'd want people to farm and mine so they don't have to do it all themselves. I'm sure anyone who's cooperated is fine." Okay, so he was mostly sure of that. General Olivia Armstrong and her staff had been slaughtered as soon as the Drachmans got their hands on them. But then, after the hell that particular Armstrong had given them over the years and how formidable she was, Cal figured that had probably been the smartest thing the Drachmans could have done logistically to cement their hold on Briggs for the time being. "Thank you for speaking with me."

It was a long, late evening. Many of the refugees headed to bed when he finished talking to them. Finally, Cal stood and had to stretch. He glanced at the clock. Shit, they'd been at this for four hours! "Damn," he turned to Tore. "Not much to go on is it?"

"It's better than what we had," Tore shrugged, looking down at his notes. "I bet Fullmetal and Emerald and General Breda can make a lot more out of this than we can. It'll probably tell them something about how the Drachmans are manning the cities and what we'll need to do to uproot them. That kind of thing. How many troops maybe, and the supplies they'd be needing. Logistics stuff, you know?"

"I do," Cal grinned. "You're pretty sharp."

"Wow, you finally noticed," Tore laughed, sticking the book back in his pocket. "Getting slow in your old age?"

Cal gave him a half-kidding shove. "Watch it or I'll go back to calling you kid. Come on, let's go get a drink." He turned, and froze when he realized they weren't alone. "Val… did you… want something?" What was she still doing here

Valeria frowned. "Don't you want to ask _me_ any questions, _Lieutenant Colonel_?"

Cal sighed. "Honestly, I think we've got everything we need, Mrs. Keller." Formality was easier. Their drama was long past. He didn't even find her attractive now. But he wasn't mad at her. The reality wasn't worth the anguish the memory stirred. That was gone. It was kind of liberating actually.

"So that's it then?" Again, she looked hurt. When had he found this spoiled brat alluring? Or had she been this bad then? No, scratch that, of course she had. He'd seen it when she refused to stand with him; to be with him. She'd never tried when things got difficult.

"That's it," Cal nodded. "I've got my work to do, and you have your children to take care of and get out of here when the time comes. Those four were yours right? The three girls and the boy."

"Yes… " Valeria gave him a startled look. "How…did you know?"

Cal smirked. "I'm pretty observant. The girls look just like you at their ages. It would be pretty hard to miss that face. It was lovely."

"_Was_?" Anger flashed in those eyes, a temperamental flame. "Well you've certainly gotten rude, Calvin Fischer."

_There we go. I'm Calvin now. _Finally, she was getting the point. Cal shrugged. "And you've gotten fat. I guess these things happen with age. We can't all go gracefully I suppose." He shrugged, refusing to be baited into this anymore. He wasn't going to lose it now. "Come on, Tore. I'd like that drink now." He moved forward with a deliberate pace, despite the fact Valeria was standing almost in the doorway. When he didn't slow his stride, she hesitated, then moved aside at the last minute.

"How dare you treat me like this!" A high-pitched squeak finally came from her throat.

How dare….. _Keep going, Fischer. She's doing what she's always done. She's playing you like she plays every- awww…screw it! _Cal spun on his heel. His tone was cold, matter-of-fact, but controlled; his locked his fury down as best he could, and hoped it held. "How dare I what, be the only person to tell you the truth? The only person who _ever_ gave you true intentions? Come on, Valeria. You can't tell me you married Andy because you loved him. He was a self-absorbed abusive prick. I bet he beat you the way my Dad liked to get into it. Did all your cute little tricks work on him too? Were you two happy? Is that why Andy fell down a mineshaft? You said he was drunk. How often was he sober? What did he offer you that I didn't? Or was it because you were afraid to face the real world? Cause you know, there's a lot of it out there beyond these hills, and it's a really great place. Did you marry Andy because you missed out on the glamorous life you really thought you wanted? You know, I don't really want you to answer any of those questions," he ran right over her when her mouth opened. Her eyes had gone very wide.

"I just want you to listen to me for a minute. When we were kids I really thought you were everything. I figured we could stand up to anything, even your parents. But you wouldn't do it. When I tried to stand by you, you told me it was unrealistic to want to go do anything real with my life. I said I was going to be a State Alchemist. I said I was going to do something worthwhile. I did _everything_ I ever promised anyone, including telling my Dad he was an ass and I was getting the hell out because I wasn't going to be controlled and beaten until I couldn't think of anything meaningful. I spent years feeling hurt and betrayed by everything that happened, but you know what I realized today… I don't anymore. I don't hate you, Valeria. I don't hate you, and I don't miss you. I might even owe you thanks someday for pissing me off and making me miserable enough to leave. But I'll have to think on that one. I still don't know how my life will end. Possibly in the next few days in these god-forsaken hills I hate so much protecting you and your little brood. Not because I care, but because you live here and it's your right. You're a person, and that's all you have to be to matter at least that much."  
He sighed, his throat gone even dryer. "There, you wanted to talk. I guess it's only fair for you to say anything back you've wanted to for the past eighteen years."

Valeria's mouth still hung open, fish-like. She snapped it shut. "You're right… I guess that's it. Though you should know… I married Andy because I thought he cared too. My parents still didn't like him much, but by then they figured he was the best I could do and they didn't bother him." She shook her head, but in that moment,

Cal knew it was possibly the most honest she had been about it in years, if ever. If nothing else, she had never been particularly duplicitous. "I do regret my mistakes, however shallow you think I might be." She finally looked up at him. "You know… you haven't changed much."

Cal shrugged, a little uncomfortable with that statement. "Thanks… I think."

Valeria turned and headed into the hallway ahead of him. "Good night, Whitewater Alchemist." Then she ducked down the side hallway and was gone.

Cal stood there for several minutes, still trying to process the conversation, when a hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped slightly before he realized it was just Tore. "You didn't hear that."

"Hear what?" Tore smiled then shrugged. "So, what about that drink?"

Drink, right. Cal nodded. "Let's go." He could definitely use one.

* * *

Edward definitely preferred tenting with Fletcher over the younger guys in his unit. Finn and Lordes were still pretty much the swinging singles they had been when they invited Ed to Dirk Chambers' bachelor party several years back, though Ed tried not to remember that night. He was still ashamed of it. Fortunately neither of the guys seemed inclined to bring it up. Ed was fairly certain they had been smart enough to put it together with Winry's leaving him back then. They were good alchemists though, and reliable officers. That was why he had picked them. Torv was also good, but more mature. He had been in Sara's class and passed the Exam the same year. He was married; no kids yet.

Fletcher was mellower than the rest, and he didn't care about leave and getting drunk and telling stories until four in the morning given the option. Though he did enjoy exchanging family stories over a cup of tea or coffee. He also seemed to be, oddly enough, thriving so far in the military environment.

Perhaps Ed shouldn't have been so surprised, but given Fletcher's amiable and gentle nature, he'd been concerned the same way he knew Russell was. He was beginning to think Fletcher had been underestimated. He was always calm, even in a firefight, and his skills as a botanical alchemists were definitely under-estimated.

"So what do you think?" Ed asked Fletcher's opinion as they sat in the sitting room of one of the other inns in town that was still open. The owner, a hefty gray-haired gentleman named Ray, had offered the alchemists rooms at half the usual going rate. Ed had agreed. It wasn't like the military couldn't afford it, and it was better for custom and for working with the locals.

Fletcher sipped his cup of tea thoughtfully. "I think if Drachma's that close, we'd be better off using the town as our line of defense. It has internal water, food supplies to the south, and there's only one pass through the mountains north of Porto right? So they'll have to come this way down the road."

Ed nodded and drank his own tea. "That's my thought. I'd rather get them caught in the pass, but I doubt we can get there in time." He hated that fact, but it was better than nothing. "Once the soldiers get here, we can move around behind enemy lines and see where things stand."

Fletcher blinked, startled. "We're going _behind_ the Drachmans?"

Now was as good a time as any to tell him. At least Fletcher wouldn't tell anyone else until Edward did. "Once we have the Drachmans held in place, yes. We'll go in, see how heavily they're occupying the cities, and see if there's any way to undermine them from the other side as well. Maybe rescue any prisoners. But only once things are entrenched here and we've got more back-up." Including another couple of units of alchemists preferably. Ed was definitely up for reconnaissance, but not at the risk of the line.

"Right." Fletcher nodded agreement, but he looked uneasy as he finished his cup of tea.

"Something bothering you?" Ed asked.

Fletcher shrugged, smiling wryly. "It's just, so far I don't feel like I've been of much use to you."

To this point, Ed had only used Fletcher's abilities defensively, but that was because that was what they were best used for. They could block the enemy, shove them back. Nothing that would kill, but could be just as distracting to an enemy attempting to fight as a unit. "Don't mistake lack of firepower with usefulness," he grinned.

"You've been great, and you're about to be utterly invaluable. I mean, look at where we are. What's this countryside absolutely covered with?"

A look of realization came over Fletcher's round face. "Trees and plants."

"The Drachmans are coming at us through a forest," Ed nodded. "You'll be a war hero by the end of this yet."

At that, Fletcher laughed loud and hard. "I can just see you explaining that to Elisa later," he grinned. "She'll never believe me. Heck, she barely believes my letters when I tell her I've lost weight."

"Wives never believe that kind of thing," Ed snickered. "Not until they see it with their own eyes." _He_ believed it, but then, he saw Fletcher every day. While he was hardly _lean_, he had visibly dropped quite a few pounds in the last few months; thirty easy. "Maybe someone around here has one of those automatic developing cameras and we can send her evidence."

"Now there's an idea," Fletcher grinned. ""Maybe then she'll believe me when I tell her you keep running me ragged."

"To be honest, that hasn't been hard." Ed had never heard a complaint out of Fletcher for all the grueling physical training he'd been put through from day one. "You're a less noisy student about it than Breda ever was, and you're also better at keeping yourself to it." He shrugged. "You're certainly not lagging behind."

"I'm glad to hear it." There was definite relief on his face. "I came out here to help. The last thing I want to be is a hindrance."

"Don't worry about it," Ed replied. "I really don't see that ever being a problem."

* * *

"For a minute I really thought you were going to let it go," Tore laughed, where he was sprawled on the bed on the far side of the room he and Cal were sharing. "But you just couldn't, could you?"

"You mean like you haven't since we left?" Cal snorted, though in the lamp light Tore could see Cal with a bemused grin on his face. He couldn't be that annoyed. Of course, he'd also had at least three beers since then, so it could be that.

"Well how often does a guy get to see a buddy give his ex the harsh reality she so deserved years ago huh?" Tore asked. He had been almost as stunned as Cal to find the infamous Valeria here. He felt sorry for Cal though; running into her without any warning.

To his surprise, Cal didn't laugh in reply. He shrugged. "The world did that. I probably shouldn't have lost my cool like that, but so much of that I've wanted to say for years."

"Did it feel good?" Tore asked.

A small smirk quirked Cal's lips. "Yeah, I have to admit it did. Still, I feel sorry for her. I got almost everything I wanted, and she got almost everything she wanted. I'm pretty sure I got the better deal."

Maybe he had a point. From what Tore had heard, Valeria seemed to be victim to so much of what he had noticed about the small towns. Not that she was an innocent, but her own little world was so small she was stuck in it. "Seems like it," he agreed a little more somberly. "So… you're really over her then. Took you long enough."

"To realize it anyway," Cal snorted. "I've known for a long time I wouldn't have taken her back if she begged. I just never figured on talking to her again. Really, she's not even half as fabulous as I remember. Now she's as beaten down as my mother used to be. It's just… sad."

"Yeah, when you put it that way." Tore closed his eyes, enjoying the mild buzz and the soft bed. "She must've been a looker once though."

"She was," Cal replied, not wistfully, but his tone was softer. "I guess it really just shows how much some things have changed, and some haven't."

"Sounds like at least for you, it was for the better." From what Tore could see anyway. "So, does this mean you might take a girl seriously now?"

"You haven't let that go either," Cal groaned, and Tore barely had warning before a pillow slammed into his face from across the room. "What is it with you and serious anyway? You're young enough; have fun!"

_Cause that worked so well for you. _Not that it was entirely bad advice; or really bad at all. Tore had really enjoyed his time with Angela, even if he did miss her a little. But this was how it had to be. That was okay though. He might find another girl whose time he enjoyed just as much. He'd certainly dated prolifically enough before.  
Getting caught up pining for a girl was a good way to get himself hurt. Ethan had suffered for years before he hooked up with Lia. Cal had been burned, and he was still messed up almost two decades later! "I have been," he chuckled. "You're the one who hooked me up with Angela."

"See, I know what I'm talking about," Cal snickered. "There are plenty of great girls out there who won't break your heart and enjoy a good time."

Tore took that moment to ask a question of Cal he hadn't before. He knew Fullmetal's take, in a roundabout way, and Ethan's, and a bunch of other guy's. "So how do you know when you find the one you want to keep?"

There was a pause long enough that he wondered if Cal had dozed off. Glancing over he realized the other guy was still staring at the ceiling. Finally, he spoke up softly. "She's the one you'd die if you left her behind, no matter how much it hurts to stay."


	14. Chapter 14

**June 23rd, 1963**

The decision to fortify their current position turned out to have been a wise decision. Nine days after the alchemists' arrival in Tivoli the Amestrians and Drachmans met afresh in combat. A scouting party sent ahead of alchemists Finn and Lordes only verified that Porto was occupied, with maybe twenty percent of its population remaining. Dodging Drachman patrols, they had discovered that a handful of people who resisted had been killed to make the point, and so the rest were complying with the soldiers.

The Amestrian soldiers arrived five days after the Alchemists, the day after Lordes and Finn got back with their report. Immediately people went to work setting trenches outside the city walls and preparing to dig in and fight. The city walls were twice their former height by the time the alchemists were done with them. With so much stone readily available it was easy to get the materials and work quickly. While the point here was to push back the smaller Drachman force pushing south-west and not let them get a foothold. It was clear they were trying to meet up with the trains in the West, and they couldn't let that happen. Still, they needed a base to work from, and this seemed the best location.

Reports also informed them that the Drachmans here also had a contingent of their alchemists; about thirty estimated. _That_ could be a problem. Even with back up, the Amestrians had only fifteen alchemists assigned to the front lines of what had been dubbed the Western Divisions. Reports labeled the other sections of the army as the Eastern and Northern divisions for clarification.

Fifteen alchemists against thirty. It would definitely be a fight to see if quantity beat out quality. If these were anything like the alchemists they had faced in North City, Edward was fairly certain the Amestrians still had the advantage in skill. Though even mediocre alchemists were dangerous in numbers. Ed knew far too well how much damage a large alchemical attack could do even if the alchemist behind it was inexperienced. Actually, then it was even more dangerous. Of course, he could be misreading the DAs entirely. They could be holding back to give the Amestrians a sense of superiority – though they probably already assumed the State Alchemists had that.

When the shooting started, the enemy alchemists were nowhere to be found at first. Ed stood on the walls of the city, watching the soldiers shooting at each other; the Drachmans in the trees, the Amestrians behind barricades and in the quick make-shift trenches. The city walls themselves were just out of range of the Drachman artillery by about a hundred yards. They needed to keep it that way.

"Why aren't we down there in the fray?" Fletcher asked as Ed watched the other alchemist units lined up to counter any Drachman attacks of alchemical nature. They had reports that this branch of the military had them, and Ed wasn't about to take chances.

"Because up to now, we've just been defending and reacting," Ed pointed out. Sniping the occasional DA didn't count. "But we need to figure out more effective ways to counter against them. We're not used to fighting alchemist on alchemist in _groups._ Not this large. There's still something wrong here. When we were in Drachma four years ago they didn't have a military alchemist of any kind; not one. Not that they showed us anyway. But they couldn't get the government to back anything involving alchemists to save their lives. With this new guy, it's only been what, a year? And suddenly they have three hundred battle trained alchemists?" He shook his head. "Something doesn't add up and I want to observe and find out what." Tough as it was to hold himself out of even one fight when he wasn't injured. "I've told Lyssandra I'll want her observations, and everyone else's, at the end. We need to start thinking smarter."

Fletcher nodded. "I'll keep my eyes out."

"Good," Ed smiled. "That's what I was hoping for. I want experienced opinions and a variety of viewpoints."

They turned back to the fight and Ed focused on the situation in front of him. He had given a couple of the other alchemists' wireless portable radios. It made it much easier to give orders to constantly moving fighters. That made it more useful to get a feel for the situation when the DAs actually made their appearance.

Which they did, with a vengeance! Almost out of nowhere the ground ahead of the Drachman soldiers surged, rippling forward to fling Amestrians off their feet. Or they would have if the Amestrian alchemists hadn't countered faster, meeting them mid-way with a wall of earth that rose straight up and stopped it cold, pushing back.  
Watching from outside of the chaos, Ed noticed a pattern surprisingly quickly. Or at least, several things; again, all of the Drachman alchemists seemed to have the same set of skills. Odd, though he supposed not too strange. They could have all been trained in the same tricks to be used together. But the second thing he noticed was that, even in unison the attacks weren't perfect, and there was also a distinct delay compared to how quickly the Amestrian alchemists were able to respond, whether in a unified attack or singly.

Suddenly the radio crackled in his hand. "Fullmetal this is Emerald. We've found their alchemists. There's a knot of them to the East!"

"Take them out!" Ed barked back into the radio. "If you can capture one or two for questioning great! If not, neutralize the threat."

"Yes, Sir."

Fletcher grimaced. "I'm never going to get used to how cavalier everyone seems to be about ordering others to their deaths."

Ed shrugged, but nodded. "Good. You shouldn't. I still don't like it." He hated allowing even one man under or around him to die, but this was a war, and death was inevitable. Sometimes, it was necessary.

To the East, Ed saw a sudden explosion as trees toppled sharply, and he saw a flash of electricity the same time he heard water rushing – undermining the trees apparently as it bubbled up from a fresh mountain spring; Shock and Whitewater at work. The screams at that end could barely be heard, but the concentrated alchemical attacks stopped, and the shooting faltered. Within ten minutes, the Drachmans were falling back slowly into the trees, retreating for now.

When it was done, Ed picked up the radio again. "Alchemists, report."

"Emerald Alchemist unit all accounted for," Lyssandra replied almost immediately.

"Slicer Alchemist unit account for; one dead, one wounded."

"Fullmetal unit under Earth Shaker accounted for," Torv replied, which was a relief.

The final unit report in with one wounded; no casualties. Ed winced at the thought of another alchemist down. He would find out who it was when they were done with this; it was his job to send the reports for this front back to Breda and from there it would go to Rehnquist at Central Headquarters.

"Good, report to base," he added, referring to the mostly empty hotel that still housed the alchemists. "I want your findings on the DAs. Fullmetal out." He turned and headed for the stairs that led them down off the reinforced walls.

"That was effective," Fletcher commented as they walked back to the inn. "Did you notice they pulled back almost as soon as they lost the use of the alchemists?"

Ed nodded. "It makes me wonder why; they still have overwhelming fire power. My theory," he continued, "Is that they're still afraid of alchemists. As a culture they've feared our abilities for so long that it's instinctive. As long as they've got the same power on their side, it's cancelled out, but without their own alchemists, they know we could wipe all their soldiers out; just slaughter them all." _If we had philosopher's stones to boost alchemical power like in Ishbal anyway. _

"But we wouldn't do that, not now I mean," Fletcher pointed out.

Ed smirked, nodding grimly as they went inside. "Yeah, but they don't know that. These men didn't live through Ishbal. Heck, most of them weren't even alive for the border dispute let alone old enough to fight in it. All they know is what they've been told. To them, we're still boogie men."

Fletcher chuckled. "Funny, I don't feel particularly scary, or even that threatening."

"That's because you're not," the Whitewater alchemist grinned as he and Tore jogged up and came through the door. Ed knew the rest would be right behind them.

"I hope you've got something to report other than that your mouth it working," Ed quipped in reply, half-joking. Really he was relieved to see each and every one of the alchemists as they came in and gathered in the inn's dining area. Ed waved for coffee and set everyone down around one of the large tables. Any alchemists there wasn't room for stood around them in a second circle. "All right, tell me we've got something," he said when he finished sharing his own observations about their hesitance without their own alchemists and how quickly they had fallen to pieces, as well as the hesitation and time delay in alchemical attacks.

Tore was grinning when Ed finished. "Actually, we might have an answer. We found these after the Drachmans retreated." He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like several small scraps of paper, perhaps three inches on each side; perfectly square. Some of them were pretty damp. "I tried to dry them out," Tore apologized as he lay them out on the table.

There was a collective gasp as the alchemists looked down at what turned out to be about a half dozen pieces of paper with alchemy circles drawn on them; all the same, and all, rather clearly, in the same hand.

"They're not even drawing their own circles," Lyssandra commented, frowning. "That seems suspicious to me."

So obviously she had caught it too. Ed nodded. "Well if this is their idea of pre-prepared circles, it's pretty pathetic; using something as easily destroyed as sheets of paper. It's telling though, that they're all using the same circle; doing the exact same trick just as we thought. And you didn't find any variance at all?" He looked back at Tore.

The Shock Alchemist shook his head. "No, Fullmetal. They're all the same. When we hit them, a lot of them lost a hold of those things. I'd stake a week's wages they have to have someone else make more. Otherwise they could have still drawn new circles if they'd pulled out chalk or a pen or something."

Ed nodded. "They really are one-trick ponies," he felt a smirk forming on his lips. "Not only that, they're not that well trained. I mean, they can probably all draw a basic circle; you have to know that much to do alchemy at all. They can't just be regular soldiers with circles. But they're not even remotely the caliber we've got. Not if this is all they can do. They probably wouldn't have the first idea what to do with a transmutation they haven't learned." No wonder Drachma had been able to train up so many alchemists so fast; at least a good number of them – a lot likely – only knew how to do one thing! It was useful information, if also slightly frightening to think of so many half-trained alchemists running around. Eventually, they would get it into their heads to try something else. That could be disastrous… for both sides. "I'll get this information to Breda and Kane in the next report. Now that we know what they can and can't do, we can definitely come up with some more effective strategies to counteract them."

Lyssandra nodded. "We can disrupt them without even killing everyone; all we have to do is take the alchemists out of the picture."

Which was, of course, what Breda really wanted them doing. The alchemists were supposed to be a counter against the other alchemists. They weren't here to slaughter soldiers, they were here to neutralize the bigger threats. Ed nodded. "Everyone start thinking of plans to do just that. Good work everyone. Now, we might just get them on the run." Or at least, that was what he hoped! Ed wasn't willing to bet that the Drachmans didn't have more surprises up their sleeve. Not with Tamirov helping run the show. Still, it was a victory, and he would take any of those he could get.

**June 30****th****, 1963  
**

"So what's that?" Winry asked curiously when she found her son reading something on break in the field hospital. The paper looked new, yet like it had been folded and unfolded a few times. "A letter?" she guessed.

Ethan looked up, smiling when he saw her. "Yeah, from Lia."

"No surprise there," Winry smiled. Her son's face should have been a dead giveaway. He looked more relaxed than he ever did on duty, no matter how calm he seemed and how personable with his patients. "How's she doing?"

"All right," Ethan replied. "A little restless with school out. It's been so long since we've spent time apart. She's keeping busy though, taking care of Trisha and James a lot and doing some tutoring."

Winry felt a twinge of sympathy. She knew far too well how much that kind of separation hurt. "Are you holding up all right?"

"What? Oh yeah," Ethan replied with a half-hearted shrug. "I miss her like crazy, but better she stay in Central than try and come up here, and I don't get any leave long enough to go home." He fidgeted. "She asked if I did. It was tough to tell her no."

"We need doctors more than almost anyone else," Winry nodded in understanding. "At least we're safer than most." Inside the city they weren't getting shot at on a day to day basis. There was the occasional shell that made it over the walls, but they were far enough back that once the wounded were brought in, there was little risk of getting blown up. "It's hard to be apart."

Ethan turned away from the paper with a sheepish smile. "Yeah. You'd know, wouldn't you, Mom? It's just… we haven't even been married a year and I've been gone four months, and who knows how much more. So much of our lives are on hold, waiting to see how things turn out; waiting for however long it may take us to kick out the Drachmans. It's not fair, but we don't want our kids growing up in an occupied country; in a war zone; because Amestris will always be a war zone if Drachma tries to take over."

Winry couldn't help giving him a funny look. "Your kids?" She was sure if Lia was pregnant she'd have heard something, especially after this long.

Ethan's face actually flushed slightly. "Well, the ones we'll have some day. We'd actually started trying, just before all this went down. Now, who knows how long it'll be."

Winry smiled and hugged her son with one arm around his shoulders in a brief squeeze. "There's time, and you're right about one thing," she added, hoping it was reassuring, "There's no way Amestris will roll over and play dead. Not with what we have to lose."

"But what if the war lasts years?" Ethan asked. "The Ishbal Massacre, the whole rebellion, lasted for eight and that was inside our own borders."

"Then you two can make that decision when it comes to it." Winry felt an emotional pang. "I don't know what Ed and I would have done if we had known the border dispute was coming, or the Xing War, or any of it. I was already pregnant with Sara when the first altercation happened. We had all three of you before Xing and Aerugo. There's no way to know what will happen next, and the best decision you can make is to live, and decide when something isn't worth waiting on anymore."

"Thanks, Mom." Ethan turned then and gave her a tight hug. Winry shifted, hugging him back. "I needed that."

"I thought you might," she chuckled softly. "You worry as much as your father does. Now, let's get back to work."

"Right." Ethan backed up, tucked the letter neatly in his pocket, and headed back towards his usual corner of the make-shift hospital.

Winry followed, glad at least to know that children was something her son honestly wanted and worried about. Given his reticence to step into a serious relationship after their family troubles when he was a teenager, Winry had worried that his fears might continue into him being afraid to venture fatherhood for himself. That, it appeared, was not the case; and for that she was grateful. Now if they could just end this war so life could return to some semblance of peace and normalcy… for Amestris at least.

**July 20****th****, 1963**

It took nearly a month, but in that month a lot of things began to chance on the Western Front. Using new strategies and pushing hard, the soldiers based out of Tivoli pushed the Drachmans back, taking the ground up the road to Porto, where they were able to entrench again. Perhaps it was only a matter of twenty or thirty miles, but it was ground solidly gained! With that second solid post and the land between becoming populated with more soldiers, it was time for the State Alchemists to get on with their other work.

Leaving two alchemist units behind on the lines to continue their work – disrupting and picking off Drachman Alchemists – Edward and Lyssandra's units took the cover of night to sneak past enemy lines and – keeping to the woods and avoiding the roads, slowly make their way North looking for any more information they could get on the DAs, Drachman troop numbers and movements, and to find out what kind of a hold the Drachmans were really keeping on the occupied towns.

The first little one they came to was more of a township – Dellwood, Cal Fischer informed them – and it was completely deserted. They continued north for another couple of days before they hit a town of any size; Ed would have called it a village. It was smaller than the population of Resembool, though more condensed given the mountains around them. It was about a day west of the primary road that ran through the area, and Ed would have missed it completely if Cal had not suggested they head in that direction to see how wide a path the Drachmans were cutting.

They arrived near dusk, spreading out along the edge of town to keep a lookout for Drachman scouts. It didn't take long though to realize the truth of the matter; there were none. "I'm not sure I trust this," Ed commented quietly to Fletcher as they crept closer. He wasn't worried about them being able to take on any Drachman soldiers; one man with a gun meant very little to him by now. He _was_ worried about finding Drachmans garrisoned in some of these small towns. He fingered the switch on the hand radio. "Fullmetal here. Report."

"Nothing, Sir," Lyssandra replied after a moment. "Other than lights on in the buildings, there's no one about at all. Definitely no patrols."

"Even at dinner time." Edward shook his head. "Either there's no one here, or they're idiots."

"I can work with both options," Lyssandra chuckled. "What do you want to do?"

Ed thought for a moment, then replied, "I guess let's go on into town and hope for a friendly reception." They ought to get that from the Amestrians, as long as this garbage the Drachmans were spouting about alchemists wasn't being believed this far out; if they'd even heard the rhetoric.

"See you in town. Emerald out."

"All right," Ed turned to Fletcher. "Let's go." He stood and headed through the brush under the trees towards the clearing that marked the beginning of town. He heard others behind him then; no reason to be silent when they weren't trying to hide.

The ten alchemists found themselves the object of curious eyes within a couple of minutes.

"Where should we start?" Tore asked when they all met up.

"The local inn, or bar, whatever they have that's a public accommodation," Ed suggested. It was the most neutral and non-threatening point he could think of. "Though I suspect if we stand here another few minutes we'd probably draw someone out to ask who the hell we are and what we're doing here." They had no guns or uniforms on. That enough should distinguish them from the Drachmans.

"Not sure how I feel about that," Cal Fischer commented with a smirk. "They could just shoot us."

"You don't put much faith by people do you?" Finn commented with a snicker.

"Not up here I don't," Fischer shrugged. "Come on. The inn is this way." He turned and pointed up the street.

It was telling that not a single person stepped out of their homes as the alchemists moved up the street to the well-lit building near the end of it. It wasn't a large place; little more than a bar and perhaps restaurant with a couple of spare rooms if Ed had to guess. There wasn't much travel up this way.

As they stepped into the lights of the porch, the door opened and a large solid woman with iron-gray hair pulled back in a bun looked down at them. "Who are you?" Her tone was suspicious. "Are you Drachman?" She didn't sound like she necessarily expected them to understand. Probably most Drachman soldiers didn't even speak Amestrian.

Ed moved to the front of the group. He could see men behind her, at least two, probably armed. He shook his head, held out his hands, and bowed his head. "No, ma'am," he replied politely enough Winry would have teased him about it. "We're Amestrians on an information gathering mission. I'm Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, at your service." He pulled his watch out as proof. It was the only evidence of his status he had, though his auto-mail might prove him well enough. "Those with me are also State Alchemists. We're here to help drive the Drachmans out."

The woman frowned only a moment. Then her expression brightened as she looked at the watch, the auto-mail hand that held it, and his hair. She looked at the others. Behind him, Ed heard a few other hands pulling out their pocket watches. "Well, praise the heavens," she exclaimed. "Edward Elric himself on my steps. I recognize you, Fullmetal. There's been enough pictures of you in the papers. We get them even out here," she winked. "Come in!" She turned around. "It's all right boys. They're ours!"

"So much for not trusting them," Tore snickered behind Ed's back.

"Hey, I can be wrong…occasionally," Cal retorted.

Ed stood and went up the stairs, the others following. The inside of the place was as small as he expected, but it would hold them. Apparently, it also held town meetings. There were currently ten men inside, most at least thirty years or older; with a couple of gray-haired gaffers Ed thought were still old enough to be _his_ father!

"Good evening, gentlemen, ladies," he said immediately when he spotted two other women in the room as well. "I hope we're not interrupting anything."

"Nothing unusual these last weeks," one of the men replied. He had been one of the ones hulking behind the stocky innkeeper. "Mrs. Munk allows most all of us here her hospitality." "It's the biggest meeting spot in town," another man snorted, scowling. "What are State Alchemists doing here anyway? I thought we were surrounded by Drachmans; asides, there's no Drachmans come in here more than once a week so far since that first day. How do we know this won't invite trouble?"

"Shut your mouth," Mrs. Munk – apparently – shook her head, bun bobbing. "They're guests Parkins. You treat them nice." She smiled winningly back at Ed who realized – with a bit of a shock – that she probably wasn't more than a handful of years older than him, if that, though she looked a good bit older in comparison to Winry; and distinctly plump in the same comparison. "You'll be wanting a bite of dinner I'm certain. Well there's a bit more stew on the fire and I've got a roast in. You all make yourselves comfortable while I get some more coffee on as well." Then she vanished into the kitchen.

"Thank you." Ed turned his attention to the rest of the gathering as the alchemists found spots at the small bar – it only had four stools – or hung out along the walls. "You mentioned the Drachmans don't show up more than once a week," he looked at the man who didn't look like he wanted them here. "Any word on how tightly they've occupied the other towns up here. That's just the sort of information we're looking for."

Still scowling, the man nodded shortly. "If it's not on the main road, they haven't bothered much best we can figure. First time, they came through, took whatever supplies they wanted, made some speech about how we were now Drachman citizens and not to make trouble and if we didn't we'd be fine. Then they come through for more and to check up, but it's never many of them; just enough to be too much trouble to fight back."

"So they've been doing the same elsewhere?" Ed needed clarification. "Have you heard from any of the other towns?"

"We have," the hulking man replied. "In fact, we've got a small group of them stuck here now; all women. Not sure how they got out. They said a bunch of their folk tried to fight and the Drachmans didn't take kindly to it."

"I'd imagine they wouldn't," Ed nodded, grimacing inwardly. He knew exactly what the Drachmans would do to people who tried to fight back. "Did they lose many?"

"Almost a quarter of the men left in town," a younger female voice came from the doorway to the kitchen. Ed turned, and paused a moment. He knew the woman standing in the doorway with a tray of coffee cups from somewhere.

"Lilah!" It was Tore's surprised exclamation that reminded him who the pretty blond was. In jeans and a flannel shirt with her hair pulled back, she looked like any other woman in her – Ed guessed early thirties though she didn't really look it.

Eyes widened a moment, then she smiled. "Hello, Terrence. Long time no see." Then the smile faded a little as she turned back to Ed. "I wish I could say it was a pleasure, but, I wish it were different circumstances. The Drachmans marched in, did just what Parkins here said, and the next thing we knew there was a fight in the street. I wasn't about to stick around. I took my sister and a couple of others and we fled into the woods. It took us nearly a week to make it this far on foot."

"Why so long?" It was Cal Fischer who asked the question. "It's not even three usually, only two by car."

There were several startled looks and appraising glances from the men; wondering who the Whitewater Alchemist was probably. Lilah stared at him hardest though, and Ed was surprised when recognition crossed her face again. "Calvin? Is that you?"  
Fischer smirked. "Yeah. I know. It's been a while."

"That's an understatement," she replied with a small frown. "Well then I should tell you, your mother is here." As she spoke, she approached the alchemists with the coffee mugs. Ed took one willingly.  
Fischer's face went briefly blank, though his immediate relief was plain. "Is she all right? I tried calling but I couldn't get through."

"She's here isn't she?" Lilah replied vaguely. "We're staying just down the street. I'll take you there when you're finished." Then she turned and kept handing out coffee. "Anyway," she returned to her narrative. "We arrived here after a week, with a few others not far behind us who told us what happened after that. Thought most of them have kept going."

"Why haven't you?" Tore asked, but Lilah ignored the question.

She continued with the summary of what little else she knew, which in truth wasn't much. "I wish I knew more," she replied, expression grim. "It's hard to get information out of people when you don't speak their language."

Her question made Ed wonder just how she had tried, but he knew better than to voice that question out loud. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer. "Well it's more than we've had yet, so thank you," he replied instead.

"You're welcome," she replied. "I should leave you all to the rest of your work," she headed for the kitchen then, pausing by Ed for just a moment. "Look out for old widow Munk," she whispered as she passed. "Her husband's been gone ten years and she thinks you're absolutely dashing."

Ed blinked then chuckled. "Thanks for the warning."

* * *

Cal was nervous as he followed Lilah down the street after dinner. Her lack of willingness to talk about his mother in front of the others concerned him. Was she ill again? Her health had never been good. That was why he insisted on sending her part of his salary every month. He could pay her enough to live on, plus doctors' visits – though those occasionally got pricey – and still have enough left over to live just fine. The NCO quarters cost him nothing after all, and his only major costs were food and the occasional auto-mail repair for his leg. But now… he was going to have to find his mother somewhere else to live. He would try and convince her – once more – to move to Central. Surely she'd agree this time right?

Cal glanced at Tore, who was striding along easily beside him. "Why are you tagging along, again?"

Tore smirked impishly. "Because Lilah's a friend of mine too."

While he said nothing else, Cal knew it was also because Tore was getting too good at reading him, and knew Cal was worried. "Looking to get lucky?" Cal teased. It was the easiest way to avoid having to give a real answer.

Tore didn't blush. He's grown up fast the last few months, not that he had been as much of a kid as Cal razzed him about. "Nah. There's plenty of girls elsewhere for that. Besides," he looked up at Lilah's back, several feet in front of them. "She's been through enough lately."

Cal knew that Tore meant. He didn't know how many others in the room had caught the real meaning behind what Lilah had said. She's tried to get information out of the Drachmans; almost certainly in bed. Given her profession, it was logical, even if that still could not have been pleasant.

"Here we are," Lilah opened the door to one of the buildings that had lights on, but when they went inside there was no one to meet them. "The occupants fled," she explained as she headed for the living room. "Cassidy, I'm back. We have guests."

Cassidy was Lilah's little sister. Though Cal figured she couldn't be that little anymore. She'd only been a couple of years younger than Lilah after all. He followed her back, wondering at the lack of answer.

He understood the moment they entered the house's small sitting room. Cassidy was there, but one look at her face told him something was wrong. Her expression wasn't vacant, not entirely, but there was something off about her expression. A smile that never touched her eyes. "Hey, Cas," he smiled weakly. "Remember me?"

There was an awkward moment as she looked at him, blinked a couple of times, and shrugged. "Not particularly," she replied with a kind smile. "But that's all right. You seem nice."

At least she was capable of speaking. "What happened?"

It was Lilah who answered, her expression growing quietly furious. "Andy Keller happened."

Wait what? "Andy…. Didn't he marry Valeria?"

Perhaps that hadn't been the right thing to say. Lilah snorted. "Sure did. But that didn't keep him from wanting a little something extra on the side. I told him no. One night he showed up at our place, drunk off his ass, and tried to force me. When I fought him off, he got angry and threw a chair. Cassidy came in to see what was going  
on… and it hit her in the head." Her voice waivered. "She's not been quite right since. When she got over the injury, she only remembered about half of the things she used to know, and she can't focus on anything for long."

"_This_ is the debt you were trying to pay off," Tore gasped softly.

Debt? Cal didn't know what he was talking about, but Lilah just nodded. "We had to travel out of town to get a doctor who could treat her. Then I couldn't leave her alone by day, so I had to hire someone to help while I worked. Eventually, I moved to Larendon to find work that paid better."

And she'd become a prostitute. Classy, but selling herself none the less. Did no one in his generation turn out all right from Koldspur? He was beginning to doubt it. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Lilah smiled softly. "I'm glad you got out of town. You seem to be much better off than you were back there."

Cal shrugged. "I am."

Tore looked stricken as he looked at the beautiful woman with a child's expression sitting by the window, a book in her lap. Cassidy should have been having romances by now; possibly married. Not like this.

"You'll want to see your mother." Lilah turned then and gestured to a door on the wall to the left. "She's in there. Come on."

Cal followed quietly. The room had a single lamp lit by the bedside. He felt his chest constrict as he saw the woman lying in the bed. "M…mom." He stumbled forward, dropping to his knees as he hit the bedside, taking his mother's frail hand in his. "Mom… it's me."

She looked so frail, even more than he remembered. She was no older than Fullmetal or his wife, but she looked so much older. Her hair had gone gray several years back, and her face held years of care. Her eyes opened slowly and took a moment to focus. "Calvin? Oh my boy… what are you… doing here now?"

His heart was going to break. So raspy and weak a voice. "I'm here to get you out," he replied softly. "A bunch of us are here to stop the Drachmans."

His mother smiled weakly. "Of course you are. My son… my heroic boy. If only your father could see you now."

_He'd still call me a failure. _Not that Cal said his thoughts aloud. Instead he smiled. "It'll be all right, Mom. I'll take care of everything." If she heard him he wasn't sure. Her eyes drooped closed again. Cal looked up at Lilah's sympathetic expression. "How long has she been this ill?" He didn't mean to sound accusing, but why hadn't anyone told him?

"A couple of months," Lilah admitted. "That's why it took so long to get here. There are a couple of the other women from town with us, staying in other houses. We made a litter and carried her this far, but she's been getting worse, and the only doctor here says he can't do anything for her condition. I'm sorry, Calvin. She's dying."

"No." The voice coming from his throat wasn't his. He hadn't broken like that since he was thirteen. "No! I'm not going to let her die. Not now."

"There's nothing to be done for her," Lilah sighed. "Not unless you've got an Alchemist with you who's an experienced doctor. The doctor who came through here a few days ago said that even in the big cities they might not be able to treat her."

"Oh god…" His hands were trembling. Cal brought them to his face, his mother's frail hand still clasped in them both. "Mom… I'm sorry." He had made so few visits out of dislike for his home town; the memories he tried to keep buried and forget. He should have tried harder to get her to move. He should have done so many things. "I'm so sorry."

* * *

Tore felt supremely awkward as he watched Cal fall into silence, clutching his mother's hands. At a glance from Lilah he backed out of the room. She followed a moment later, closing the door behind her.

"We should let them be," she commented quietly, resignation on her face. "He's lucky he came now. I really don't think she'll last another couple of days. She's just too weak." She shook her head, then turned to Tore more directly, with a small smile. "It's good to see you again. So, you're a State Alchemist now too."

"Yeah," Tore smiled, feeling like bragging or even grinning about it would be inappropriate at a time like this. "I've been the Shock Alchemist since February, though I think the bigger shock was having the invasion a month later."

"Lousy timing," Lilah agreed, though she chuckled. "Still, congratulations. You always struck me as the type to get what he wanted. Any girlfriends?"

Leave it to her to ask without shame. Tore shrugged. "Nothing serious," he replied. "It took a lot of studying to pass the exam and with the war… well it's probably a good thing no one's waiting to find out if I come home alive or not."

"You'll make it," Lilah replied with surviving conviction. "I just have a good sense for this kind of thing; for people. You're like the Fullmetal Alchemist back there, or Cal; survivors the lot of you. Besides," she winked at him. "You're too good looking to die so young."

It was a playful gesture, meant to lighten the mood. Tore appreciated it. He grinned. "Well, thanks. I'll be sure to tell that to the next Drachman who tries to take a shot at me. Sorry, you can't kill me. I'm too hot."

Lilah chuckled. "You've grown up a lot since I saw you last."

"Yeah, this time I'm an adult," Tore smirked. "Legally."

"I can tell." She stepped closer to him then, running one hand lightly down his cheek as she gazed intensely into his eyes. "You haven't avoided my gaze once since you got here."

"Did I ever?" He couldn't really recall ever doing so in their brief interactions before.

"A bit," Lilah smiled. "You seemed intimidated by what I do when we met; you don't now."

"I'm not," Tore replied honestly. "Everyone does what they have to in order to get by. There's got to be worse things than sex." Robbing people for instance; murder. "It's an honest living."

Lilah shook her head, then leaned in and kissed him, ever so briefly. There was nothing lusty in it, though Tore knew there could be if she'd wanted it to be. It was nothing more than a friendly gesture coming from her; but it was sweet, and he let himself return it. Having not felt a woman's kiss since he left North City, it was nice.  
When they parted, he smiled, bemused. "Thanks. What was that for?"

"For turning out so well," Lilah smiled back. "There are too few honest men in this world. I'm glad you turned out to be one of them."

Tore was grateful that he didn't blush in that moment. Instead he smiled. "You're welcome, and thanks. It's nice that someone noticed." He glanced back at the door. Behind it… was that crying? He wasn't sure, but it made him uncomfortable to hear someone's private anguish; especially someone as proud and private as Cal. "Will he be all right here? I don't think he's going to want to leave."

"I'll take care of him," Lilah promised. "We've got a spare couch. When do you have to leave?"

"I'm not sure," Tore admitted. "Knowing Fullmetal, we'll probably take at least a day to rest and see what other information we can gather before moving on. There aren't a lot of good places to sleep out here." He, for one, would be grateful for anything that wasn't the ground! The alchemists were being put up in abandoned houses. "I'll find out."

"Good." Lilah said. "I really don't expect her to linger much longer. It would be nice if they could have some… time."

"Yeah." Tore tried not to get choked up again. It was hard though. He'd never said goodbye to his own mother. "That would be nice."


	15. Chapter 15

**July 21****st****, 1963**

It was the longest night Cal could remember in a long time. He was aware of little else for quite some time, but he knew when Lilah came in to check on him that Tore had gone back to the others. He didn't have to leave his mother's side tonight, though he knew he might have to tomorrow. So he stayed, playing the pitiful too-late role of dutiful son.

His mother woke once more an hour or so later, and they actually talked. Mostly about what life in Central would be like, though Cal winced as her mind often drifted to days he still cared to forget; but she still seemed to remember with some fondness. Then, as always, she asked him the question he had come to expect; were there any special girls in his life? Was he taken care of? Happy? Would there be grandchildren in the foreseeable future?

Cal couldn't bear to tell his mother the full truth, but lying seemed wrong. "Yeah," he smiled weakly. "There is a girl."

His mother's eyes lit up briefly. "Tell me about her."

Wishing he had a picture, Cal found himself telling his mother all about Alyse Elric. Not that they had ever dated before and the reason for the breakup – that he could _never_ admit to his mother of all people! – But their friendship, and how sweet she was, how well mannered and talented and responsible; her job coordinating events for the military and weddings. It was just easier to talk about Alyse than to try and lie, or to talk about more painful subjects.

"She sounds like just what you need," his mother chuckled tiredly when he ran out of words. "You should keep that one, dear."

"If she'd have me," Cal sighed, smiling weakly for her sake.

"A word…of advice," his mother smiled back. "No woman… puts that much effort… into a man she doesn't want."

"I'm not so sure about that," Cal replied, trying to avoid the awkward feeling in his stomach at having this conversation with his mother. He loved her, but they had never talked so frankly about anything.

"I am," she replied more seriously. "Just make sure to use your head."

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Love comes from the heart, but…so does fear," she replied calmly. "Everyone… makes mistakes in love, but don't let… fear of heartache…. keep you from choosing to love."

"Rest, Mom," Cal patted her hand gently. "Save your strength." She was dying, but he wanted her for as long as he could have her.

For one of the few times in his life, she looked crossly at him. "Don't interrupt. I haven't… been able to do much… for you. This is important."

"Sorry." Cal quieted.

His mother smiled. "Finally you listen. So listen on something big. Love is a risk, but one worth taking."

"How can you say that?" Cal blurted. "After what Dad did to you? After what he did to me?"

"He had faults," she nodded without argument. "But he _did _love you. He just wasn't always good at knowing how to be a father. He…was an impatient man, and often insecure."

The last thing Cal wanted to do was talk about his father. "Insecure?" He snorted.

"He was shy once," his mother smiled softly. "And kind too, in his way. His life wasn't easy either. I'm just sorry you couldn't have… seen the man I married." Her eyes fluttered closed a moment.

"Yeah… me too." If his father had loved him, Cal still had trouble seeing it. They had clashed loudly and often. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too," she replied as she drifted back to sleep.

Sometime around one in the morning, Violet Fischer passed from the world in quiet dignity. Cal left her only when he was sure she had breathed her last breath – over an hour later. It was a long, sleepless night, though he dozed fitfully on the couch Lilah had provided. He was glad she offered no physical solace other than a drink. It would have seemed wrong to seek comfort in a random fling with an old acquaintance with his mother's recently deceased body lying in the same building.

It was barely dawn when there was a knocking on the door. Bleary-eyed, Cal got up and opened it himself.

It was Tore. "Hey, Whitewater," he offered a sympathetic smile. "Sorry to wake you early. Fullmetal wants us ready to go in the next hour. They're serving breakfast at the inn."

So much for any kind of rest. "I'll be there." Cal promised then closed the door.

"Leaving already?" Lilah was standing behind him when he turned around, looking rumpled herself, in nothing but one of her long flannel shirts and a pair of shorts that might as well have been underwear. It was a good look. On another day, he'd have been tempted.

Cal nodded. "Yeah. I bet we're either heading further in or starting back to report to the rest of the army." They might have found out something else he didn't know, or Fullmetal and Emerald might have come up with a plan during the night. "Thanks…for last night, and for taking care of my mom."

"You're welcome," Lilah smiled. "She was always nice to me and Cassidy, especially after my folks died, and then after Cassidy's… injury."

"I hate to ask a favor," Cal added, honestly feeling guilty. "But could you…you know, make sure she's buried someplace nice? At least, where no one will bother her?" He wished he could stay to see to a proper funeral. Just one more things the Drachmans would answer for later.

"I will," Lilah promised. "I'm glad you showed up when you did."

"Yeah, me too." He took his leave then, pulling on his boots. The others could live with the rumpled clothing. None of them were foolish enough to be running around in uniform out here.

The other alchemists were already gathered in the dining room at the inn, as Tore had told him, munching their way through a hearty breakfast of oatmeal, eggs, bacon, toast, and plenty of strong coffee.

Cal took a piece of toast, some bacon, and coffee, and sat down at the end of the table.

Lyssandra Fines gave him a concerned look. "Are you hung-over, Whitewater?"

"With all due respect, not enough," Cal replied without a smirk. Two beers – all Lilah had to offer – were hardly enough to get him drunk. He still felt like shit this morning. Cal gave no further explanation. He really didn't want to talk about it right now. "So, what's the situation?"

"We're heading back south," Fullmetal informed him. From the lack of attention the others gave, Cal assumed this was already common knowledge. "From all reports there's a bridge up here a few miles ahead that's the only way across one of the rivers for nearly fifty miles unless you want to wade rapids and climb fifteen foot rock walls. It's the perfect place to push them back and cut them off if we can manage it. I called North City command late last night and talked to General Breda. That's the goal and our orders are to head back to Tivoli and prepare for a hard-push to get the Drachmans to retreat faster before they can get reinforcements enough to push back."

A sound enough plan; Cal nodded and sipped his coffee. It was black, thick, and powerful. Even so, he only felt slightly more alert this morning. His mother; his only remaining family of any kind – though also his only tie to Koldspur in any way – was gone. "Sounds good," he replied. "Let's get started."

**July 27****th****, 1963**

The feeling of safety and invulnerability within the city walls of North City ended with a shattering abruptness as a flying projectile slammed into the top level of the building which Breda had staked out as his command center near the walls, shaking it from the top level down and sending bricks raining down to the ground just outside the front door.

In the bottom-floor command room, Breda cursed as everything shook and the lights flickered. "What the hell was that?"

Franz Heimler grimaced. "It sounded like canon, Sir."

"That's what I thought." Breda growled as the building shook again. Lucky shots? "How the hell is it getting inside the walls?" He turned and headed for the door. "I want to know what's going on here!" He bellowed, irritated.

He was half-way down the hall when a frantic aide came running up, skidded to a halt, and saluted sharply when he almost ran right into him. "General Breda! The Sky Fire Alchemist requests your presence, Sir! The Drachmans have tanks, Sir."

"Of course they have tanks," Breda sighed. "They always have tanks, Lieutenant."

"These are the… the Briggs tanks, Sir." The young man tried manfully not to stammer.

Briggs…. _Shit. _Breda shoved past the Lieutenant without waiting. He heard footsteps behind him as people scrambled to keep up. Despite himself, he could move quickly when he had to.

Breda emerged into the odd sunny day just in time to dodge falling rubble. "This is unacceptable," he grumbled as he hurried towards the walls. He saw Marcus Kane on top of the wall and hefted up the stairs to join him, painting slightly at the top. "What the hell is going on here, Kane?"

Sky Fire sighed and gestured over the walls, offering Breda a set of binoculars. "The Drachmans have apparently figured out where the range is for those babies."

Looking through the binoculars, Breda could see just what had been reported, and what he really didn't want to. Briggs had been a center for military weapons development for decades; experimental stuff, cold-weather, all sorts of things. That was part of where their engineering reputation came from. The tanks lined up within the  
Drachman line were definitely Amestrian in manufacture, and not old; they were Briggs' newest designs. Their range was a good bit longer than their predecessors.

"Nice expletives, Sir," Kane commented when Breda was done cursing at the tanks in the distance. "What do you want us to do about them?"

"Take them out," Breda sighed. They could have used those things. "If you can manage to reclaim them, fantastic. If not, destroy them. Better they're gone than in enemy hands. Keep an eye out for any other new technology Briggs might have been developing that could show up down here. I'll ask HQ for a report of just what we might be facing." _I'm not slipping, damn it. I did think about this. That's why we've got the alchemists out here. _"Take a couple of units, come up with a plan of attack, and get it done."

"Yes, Sir," Kane replied as Breda turned to go. "Where should I find you when we're ready?"

"Moving the Command Center further back from the walls," Breda grumbled. "I don't like having my office come down around my ears while I'm trying to work."

"Wise decision," Kane chuckled.

Breda smirked in reply. "Yeah, I'm known to make those occasionally."

**July 28****th****, 1963**

It didn't take long to work out a plan to take out the Drachman-appropriated tanks. The best option was to try and take them at night, while they only had guards, instead of during the day while they were operational. The plan was to break in, take control of the tanks, and bring in a few tank-drivers to steer them back over to the Amestrian side of the line. If they could do it without alerting half of the Drachman army, so much the better.

Maes Mustang was looking forward to the mission. It was Kane's unit and one of the others going in, and while Maes had been back on duty for over a month, their unit hadn't seen any front-line action in that time. Mostly they had worked from the back. He was itching to do something more proactive and in-their-face to the Drachmans. This would be a major blow if they could reclaim the technology the Drachmans had gleaned from Fort Briggs.

They slipped out of the city in the dead of night. For once the sky was cloudless, giving them stars to see by and a slip of a moon.

"It almost makes me feel exposed," Sara whispered as they slunk through the darkness. "Clouds would be better tonight."

"Makes it easy to see the tanks," Maes argued. They were visible in the distance; metal gleaming dully.

They fell quiet as they moved and began to spread out. Only practice bore them silently enough to get them past the lines and towards the parked tanks. All along the line Maes knew the other alchemists were doing the same in pairs. Will Elric and Derrick Tringham were a team, and Kane had teamed off with a spare from the other unit. Each team had a trained tank-driver with them; five teams for five tanks.

Sara and Maes had the tank on the far left of the line, to the West. Their driver, a Sergeant Milner, followed with surprising stealth. Maes sometimes forgot that regular soldiers were often just as well trained for missions like this, only without the alchemy. The driver did have a pistol on him however.  
The plan was simple. Sneak in, remove any guards, get the gunner into the tank, and keep the tank covered long enough for it to get moving, then get out of there. Once the tank got moving no one was likely to be able to stop it.

Not that Maes expected it to be that simple. The moment they engaged anyone it would be more complicated, and it would be only a matter of time before they were found out. If the other attacks went off before theirs, than people would be looking for them. Timing was important.

When they arrived, it was about what they had expected. There were two guards on the tank, one on each side, though one was leaning against it looking bored, and the other seemed to be focused on the sky as he smoked a cigarette. _This might not be too difficult after all. _

Maes looked to Sara, who gave a nod. They would proceed as planned. They split then, moving around to either side - leaving the tank driver ready to run for the tank as soon as both guards were occupied. Maes moved to the east until he was forty-five degrees from his previous location, and Sara should be just opposite him, out of sight behind the side of the tank. It was tricky. There were soldiers camped less than fifty yards away, and the occasional pebble shifted beneath his feet as he stayed low, trying not to rustle any of the low brush.

Maes had the first move. He looked at his target – the stargazing smoker – and grinned. He knew just what to do with this one. He snapped his fingers and shoved lightly, and a moment later a spark shot across the space and hit the man's cigarette, sending it up like a small pop-bomb for holidays.

With a startled shout, the man leapt backwards, slamming into the side of the tank as he flung his cigarette from his face! His eyebrows were rather badly singed.

On the other side the other Drachman called out in concern, then was cut off as a strong wind whipped up and he slammed into the other side of the tank.

Just then something behind him – in the distance – exploded, and the light of flames flickered against the metal tank in front of him.

Time to move! Maes leapt to his feet and sprinted forward; snapping again and sending a gout of flame towards the guard, who shouted and fired wildly. He missed Maes by several feet, and then grimaced as Maes slammed into him, bringing his elbow into the guy's midsection and spinning him until he smashed his face into the tank.  
He heard a scuffle on the other side and a male grunt, and a female growl, then another gunshot.

Footsteps behind him had him spinning, ready to flame again when he realized it was the driver, looking grim as he scrambled up towards the top of the tank. "Let's get this baby out of here," he popped the hatch and vanished inside.

Maes' Drachman was unconscious and bleeding from his nose; black runners in the darkness. He dropped him to the side and hurried around the tank. "Sara, are you all right?" He skidded to a halt when he saw her standing up, the Drachman on the ground, dead. Sara held his rifle. She was bleeding slightly from a cut to the face.

"Bastard smacked me with it," she grimaced.

"Bet he's sorry," Maes smirked as the tank roared to life. Down the line, he heard others doing the same. "Looks like we're in the clear."

"Don't say that bef-ah!" Sara grimaced and stumbled at the same time Maes heard a gunshot ring out. He stepped forward and caught her as he saw someone running from the camp. Several someones. Another bullet whizzed by.

"Sara! Are you all right?" Maes held her up by the shoulders.

"I'm…fine," she hissed, her right hand going to her left shoulder. "Just winged me. Stings like hell. Let's go!" She moved past him and scrambled onto the outside of the tank, crouching where she could get a hold.

Maes leapt on as it started moving. Or at least, that was his intention until his boot slipped and he stumbled backwards. "Damn it!" He scrambled up, but the tank was moving away. He went to run after it but bullets winging through the air around him were a more immediate problem. Maes spun and sent a huge spout of flame sizzling across the line of quickly approaching Drachmans. The ground between them went up in a four foot wall of fire that had most of them skidding to a halt. Two tripped and fell in. Maes grimaced, and turned away before he had to watch them burn to death. There was shouting now. Further down the line he could see two of the tanks, both moving.

Spinning, he went to catch up with his, and cursed aloud when he realized it hadn't advanced far. There were soldiers coming at it from _the line_? _Damn it! _Apparently they had crept right past sleeping soldiers, bunked down out on the line. _Stupid guards. They'd have been easier to spot if they hadn't fallen asleep on the job. _Well, it would cost them!

Maes charged, sending fire shooting out again as three of them swarmed the tank. It was metal, it could handle anything he threw at it undamaged. It – _Sara!_ Maes jerked back, re-angling his attack at the very last second, and slipped on a damp rocky patch. He felt his ankle give as he went down, heard fire roaring, shouting. _Shit shit shit shit….. _Plenty of much more colorful expletives poured through his head as he rolled, forcing himself to stagger to his feet, stand on his throbbing ankle. The shooting was starting again. People were awake and coming.

Maes staggered forward, noting that the tank was moving again, and Sara still seemed to be clinging to the side. Maes hobbled into a jog and kept moving. There were several burning Drachmans writhing on the ground or already dead. He moved past them without looking. _I hope Sara's all right, _he thought as he hurried as best he could. _If I hurt her Franz won't have to kill me. I'll never forgive myself. _

* * *

"It's a pretty bad sprain," Ethan commented as he started binding Maes' ankle. He yawned, but forced himself to ignore the late hour. He had been about to get off shift when the chaos started, and stayed to help tend any injured alchemists; and because he knew he wouldn't sleep until he knew if Sara and Will made it through okay; and everyone else of course. "I want you off it for a day, then on crutches for another couple of weeks."

"You've got to be kidding me," Maes growled, though it was half-hearted. He kept glancing over at the next bed, where Sara sat stripped to her under-shirt, her left shoulder bandaged for the graze-wound Ethan had already treated. Her right shoulder looked like it had second-degree sun burns. Ethan had cleaned it with disinfectant.

"Not in the slightest," Ethan replied unapologetically. "Just be glad you weren't shot again."

"Yeah… I know," Maes sighed, holding still as Ethan wrapped his ankle tightly. "Thanks."

"No problem." Ethan wasn't bothered by unhappy patients. No one was happy when they hurt.

"Watch your aim next time," Sara groused.

"I tripped," Maes replied, though he sounded guiltily apologetic. "I said I'm sorry."

"I know," Sara replied. "I'm glad you hit them and not me. Believe me."

"Thank goodness for that," Kane commented. He had been scowling since he came in, and Ethan suspected it had to do with the number of injuries involved in the mission, and the total outcome. Kane himself was uninjured, as was his partner. Will and Derrick had come out with only minor bruises. Both teams had recovered their tanks. But the two on the end of the line, one tank had actually been blown up by the Drachmans – with the Amestrian driver inside – and both alchemists killed. The other had been rendered immobile and the alchemists and driver had barely escaped with their lives and were in critical condition. Three tanks at the loss of two men, and two more critically injured. Ethan and another doctor had seen to them first. Which was part of why Ethan felt like he was drooping now; it had taken a large alchemical boost to stabilize one of the injured and keep him from joining the rolls of the dead.

"I can't believe we missed those other Drachmans," Maes commented glumly.

"It almost got you both killed," Kane replied. Ethan didn't say anything about how harsh the Brigadier General was treating the others. It wasn't his place, and he wasn't a member of the military. "There was a firefight going once you guys got off that field, and I don't mean just with guns. You almost lit half the battlefield on fire, Mustang!"

Maes cringed visible. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Kane barked. "We knew this wasn't going to stay a quiet mission, but slinging fire around like that and then not keeping control of it? Our own soldiers are out there in those fields too. That's the sloppiest work I've ever seen out of you. We can't afford slip ups like this."

"Yes, Sir."

Kane did not look particularly mollified, but he nodded sharply. "Rest up. We'll see what I do with you when you're healed. I've half a mind to ship you back to Central with the other wounded."

Ethan looked up in time to see a brief flash of panic on Maes' face before it turned to anger. "No, Sir! It won't happen again."

"No, it won't." Kane turned, tight-lipped, and strode out of the room.

"Don't worry," Will commented, coming over and resting a hand on Maes' shoulder when Kane had gone. "He's just worried about everyone."

"I know," Maes replied curtly, looking down at Ethan as he finished with his ankle.

Ethan looked at his cousin, who was tired but otherwise fine. "Will, you and Derrick can go. You're fine."

"Thanks _doc_," Will snickered. "I'm gonna go crash hard. Don't try to wake me in the morning."

"What about me?" Sara asked as Will also left, leaving the three of them alone in the room.

"I'd like you to stay," Ethan admitted apologetically. "I don't want that burn to get infected, but it should stay open to the air a while longer. Where's Franz?" He realized that his brother-in-law was nowhere to be found.

"Still with Breda," Sara sighed. "They're dealing with command in getting that mess outside the gates dealt with. Damn it, I can't believe we messed up that badly."

"It wasn't your fault," Maes interrupted. "You did everything right. It was mine."

Sara smiled. "Gallant, Firebrand, but uncalled for. We both missed the others we passed. You just set everything on fire."

"I almost torched you." Maes replied as he braced himself and started to stand. "We both nearly died before we got out of there. Hey, can I have those crutches?" He looked at Ethan expectantly.

Of course Maes wasn't going to be the easy patient. "You should stay here tonight," Ethan replied. "Or have you already forgotten what I said about staying off that foot for a day?"

"Can't I choose _where_ I do it?" Maes grumbled.

"No, I think not." Ethan waited with a knowing look until Maes sat down again, giving up. "That's better. Get some rest." Then he turned back to Sara. "You want your own room? The one next to this one's available."

"Yes please!" Sara stood up and followed him as they left what was temporarily Maes' room. "Keep an eye on him okay?"

"Well yeah, that's kind of my job," Ethan smiled, though he noticed that Sara looked concerned. "Don't worry. I'm not going to let him go do anything stupid."

Sara looked momentarily embarrassed, then relieved. "I'm just worried about him. He was so eager to get back into it after his first injury. Now, he's almost desperate for action."

"I saw that," Ethan admitted. He'd known Maes Mustang his whole life; though he was Sara's friend and several years older than him. He seemed to have a desperate need to prove himself; to demonstrate his abilities and be useful. Not bad things, until he took into account the desperation. "No, I won't let him go for a couple of days. Maybe he'll calm down by then. But I can't hold him indefinitely."

"I know," Sara nodded, following him into the next room and sitting down, placing the rest of her uniform on the chair beside the small bed. "I'm just worried that he's got some idea of proving himself a hero, you know, to make up for things everyone else has already forgiven him for." She sighed and reached back before she winced in pain. "Could you undo my braid?" She looked sheepish.

"Sure," Ethan chuckled, coming around and starting to undo his sisters long braided tail of hair since both of her shoulders were too injured for her to do so. Sara had the only hair in the family longer than his and Dad's now, though Mom's was awfully close. "Is Maes _still_ stuck on that? It happened years ago."

"I don't think it's that by itself," Sara admitted. "We see them both fairly often. Trisha and little Roy are best friends and hang out all the time the way Maes and I used to. He's just… he's changed. I don't really know how to explain it, but he's even more afraid to lose or mess up than he ever was as a kid. I think he thinks that doing something noteworthy will help bring some of that back, or bring back some of the spark he used to have with Elena, or… oh I don't know."

"I get it," Ethan replied calmingly as Sara's hair came loose and tumbled free. He understood all right, and it bothered him. "So if you know this, why does Kane treat him the way he does?"

"This is the military," Sara replied flatly. "Every soldier, alchemist or not, has to be able to handle the job or they don't belong here. Every soldier gets dressed down for their transgressions. Kane's doing his job. We're not at home. We're not all friends hanging out around the grill. It's life or death and any screw-up, however small, can mean death. He barked at me too."

This was true. "You don't seem too upset about it."

"No reason to be," Sara shrugged slightly, then winced and turned to look at him. "It's like I told Maes, we both should have seen those soldiers. So should Sergeant Milner. We didn't."

"Sara?" A voice, trying to be quiet but failing, came from outside the room in the empty building that had been appropriated as the military hospital.

Ethan stepped to the door and peered out, waving at Franz. "In here."

Worried and frazzled, his brother-in-law hurried down the hallway with long strides, and brushed right past him, going to Sara and kissing her gently, careful not to hug her on her injuries. "Are you okay? I passed Brigadier General Kane in the hall."

"I'll be fine," Sara assured him softly.

That, Ethan decided, was his cue to exit. He had a couple more things to do before he could sleep, and he wanted to get them done quickly. _I'm trying to keep my promise, Lia. Really. I'll sleep tonight… eventually. _


	16. Chapter 16

**August 12th, 1963**

It was amazing how much easier it was to force the Drachmans into retreat when they started playing on their insecurities. With the information they managed to gather on the towns and how the Drachmans were handling things, as well as what they had learned about their alchemists, the Amestrians on the Western Front had surprising success over the next weeks. They pushed the Drachmans back past Porto, and then kept them running all the way back to the bridge. It was not quite a rout, but it was beginning to feel like one.

Reports from the other fronts had mingled success. There were more Drachmans arriving on the front in North City. They were dealing with technology appropriated from Briggs, though they seemed to be handling it fairly well. The warning to look out for anything particularly high-tech came in a dispatch. Still, the new techniques were nullifying the Drachman alchemists. If that was all they had to throw at Amestris after their initial drive to take Briggs, than this wasn't going to be as much of a challenge as Edward had feared and expected.

As soon as they knew what the alchemists were up to on a given day, Ed could order his alchemists to counter it with their usual ingenuity and variety of attacks, focusing on things that could not be countered with whatever the Drachmans had prepared.

By the twelfth, all they had left to do was drive the Drachmans back over the bridge and make it too costly for them to make another attempt. Then they would control the front, and continue pushing the Drachmans back.

Why did it always sound so easy on paper? The challenge was going to be keeping the Drachmans from controlling the bridge, which the Amestrians would need to keep up the supply chain further north, but the Drachmans were using to keep themselves supplied. Breda had given Ed very strict orders _not _to blow the bridge.

_Which only makes this that much more complicated. _At least as far as the need to push the Drachmans back enough in one push that the Amestrians could solidly hold and control the bridge.

So far, it was going pretty well, Ed thought as he ducked behind a large rock, avoiding the gunfire whizzing over his head. _For a battle. _He was really getting tired of combat. Maybe when this was over he'd consider retirement. _Yeah, right. _

The Drachmans were backed up, having paused in their retreat, covering the bridge that straddled the river-made ravine. But there they had stopped, holding for nearly an hour now despite the mounting dead.

The radio in his pocket crackled and Ed pulled it out. "Fullmetal here."

"It's Emerald," Lyssandra commented from the other end. "We've got a problem. The Drachmans have a whole caravan of supplies and fresh troops coming up the road! We've got to act now, or we're going to lose our advantage."

_Damn it. _"A little warning would have been nice," Ed grumbled. Frantically he combed his mind for a plan. The soldiers were just going to keep shooting and following orders no matter what the alchemists did, and he didn't have time to confer with the General in charge of the attack. "I hear you. Listen, Lyssandra; I want you to get your team over there and _blow that bridge." _

"Breda specifically told us not to do that," her reply was surprised, then annoyed. "Do you want to go against a direct order?"

"I'll take the heat, just trust me on this." Ed replied. He didn't have time to explain.

"Yes sir, Fullmetal." Lyssandra sighed. "But it's on your head."

"That's all right. It usually is." Ed smirked. "Fullmetal out." He stuffed the radio back in his pocket.

He didn't know how long it would take for the alchemists to get close enough to blow the bridge. That was all right. He had his own objective; creating chaos amongst the Drachman ranks. Clapping his hands together, Ed darted back out from behind the rock, slamming his hands into the ground. Why try something new when a tried and true tactic would work just as well?

With variation anyway; amongst the front line of Drachmans – as far as he could reach without overdoing it – rods of solid earth shot upward, tossing soldiers left and right. Shouts of fear filled the air and the regular pattern of gunfire was broken in places.

Ed dodged a splatter of fire and hid again, using the same trick over and over. Always the Drachmans got hurt; never did he catch an Amestrian in his attacks. That was what years of experience earned him; accuracy and stamina. They had been at this for some time, and while he was tired, he didn't have a problem keeping up with the younger guys.

The alchemy circles in use today by the DAs seemed to involve turning rocks into cheap explosives. The occasional rocks flying through the air would explode when they got close. Distractions, but hardly the damage Ed would have expected. The more he dealt with these guys, the less impressed he was. _There has to be a more experienced alchemist around here somewhere preparing them._ But where, he had yet to discern. The better alchemists were almost certainly staying as far out of harm's way as they could; the cowards.

A cluster of rocks rained down in his direction and instead of bothering to dodge them, Ed blocked them with a wave of dirt that bent and recoiled, sending them flying back into the Drachman army.

The explosion that came next was so huge he stopped dead. No way those had made that sound! Peering around the dirt he heard a roaring and saw the bridge cracking as a wall of water slammed down the river over it, pulling the Drachmans off with it; dozens of them at a time.

The bridge creaked, cracked, and broke.

For a moment, as the water drained away, there was no shooting, no shouting; an eerie silence fell as everyone – Drachmans included – stared at where the bridge had been. Then, the Drachmans seemed to remember where they were. They turned, started to take aim, but in the chaos no orders came. Not until the ranks parted and a man came forward and shouted in heavily accented Amestrian "We surrender!"

It was only the Drachmans that hadn't already crossed the river – maybe a couple thousand people – but it would do! Ed waited as terms for the surrender were worked out by the General with the commander of the captive Drachman forces. He sauntered on around himself to the edge of the river ravine and looked down. A good chunk of the bridge was still hanging below on both sides. It would be enough.

He found the rest of the alchemists sitting along the edge as well. Fischer was looking smug. "That what you were looking for, Fullmetal?"

Ed grinned back. "Good enough." He looked across the large expanse. On the other side, perhaps forty yards distant, the Drachmans weren't bothering to try shooting at them, but appeared to be pulling back further, taking stock of their losses. Ed estimated they had probably lost an extra five hundred men just by having the bridge taken out like that. Perhaps not a large number compared to the whole army, but a large chunk in an unexpected fashion.

"Gee thanks," Fischer replied. "Now, just how are you going to explain this to Breda?"

"That's what I'd like to know." The General – Talmanes – from Western Headquarters, was scowling down at Ed as he approached with long strides. "Breda's going to throw a fit when he hears what your men did."

"You can lay all the blame on me," Ed smiled calmly. "It was my order, and it was a sound one."

"How do you figure that?" Talmanes asked, skepticism plain on his blocky features.

Ed couldn't help laughing. Had no one else thought of this? "It's simple," he replied. "As soon as we're lined up again and ready to march, I'll just rebuild the bridge."

Too many stunned faces on his fellow alchemists followed that statement. Had they learned nothing from his training?

Lyssandra laughed first. "A bit sure of yourself aren't you?"

Ed shrugged. "I've reconstructed more complicated things with alchemy before." Like entire buildings from rubble; there was plenty of bridge here, and plenty of raw materials in stone and wood to replace the rest. "When you're ready to go after the Drachman army and force the march, General Talmanes, I'll put it back together."

Talmanes looked flummoxed, then snorted and nodded. "As long as it works, Fullmetal. I've never heard of such an unorthodox method."

Tore snickered and commented quietly, though Ed caught it. "He hasn't read much about Fullmetal, has he?"

**August 18****th****, 1963**

"Beautiful day for a battle isn't it?" Roy commented briskly as he strode out of the tent ahead of Riza. He had a grin on his face that morning and liveliness in his stride that Riza couldn't help but be happy to see, even if it was because he enjoyed indulging his ability to flame things and fight a clearly defined enemy.

"The day is beautiful," Riza agreed, trying not to smile too openly as she fell into step beside her husband. "Do you plan to at least eat breakfast before you start slinging fire around?"

Roy chuckled. "I suppose I should."

"Good," Riza nodded as they moved towards the mess tent. She knew Roy was partially joking. He ate as much as any of the other alchemists these days, but for the first time in years he was making use of every bit of it with his transmutations. Riza couldn't remember the last time she had seen him put his skills to work so often, or with such creativity. Nor could she remember the last time he had seen him in such high spirits. He really was an old war dog at heart, and having an enemy and something to do brought out spirit she hadn't seen in a long time.

It was not early morning, at least not for a war camp, but around eight in the morning. After yesterday's rather decisive victory in succeeding in pushing the Drachmans back up the mountains several hundred yards, out of the pass they had been attempting to occupy for quite some time. The Drachmans trapped on their side of the ravine a while back had been defeated and the living captured.

There was unlikely to actually be much of a battle today, but Riza was good with that. Every once in a while, people needed rest. She found that, after so many years, she still disliked battle, though she had not yet hesitated to pull the trigger in this one. Mostly other than keeping an eye out on Roy's back, she had been used to carefully snipe any targets worth picking off; Drachman alchemists or officer's who seemed competent. "So what's being served this morning?" Riza smiled as they walked into the mess tent.

It was Russell Tringham who answered, waving them over. "Treats, we hope!"

Treats? Riza and Roy joined the small crowd of state alchemists – several of whom held mail – and in the center was Alphonse opening a fairly good sized box. Riza understood immediately. There was only one thing Gracia and Elicia would send in that kind of bulk. Indeed, a minute later the box was opened to reveal several tightly wrapped packages of home-made baked goods, and a letter.

"Don't tell me you're going to eat all that yourself," Roy snorted as he looked into the package. "That must be days of baking in there."

Al snickered. "No no… this specifically says I have to share with you guys," he tapped the note as he read. "State alchemists, family, and friends."

"That's most of the army right?" Felix Tringham chuckled.

"There might still be leftovers," Al commented as he pulled out box after box of home-made cookies, two bundt cakes, several boxes of fudge, three pies, and sweet rolls. "This box really could feed half a division at least."

"You're lucky," one of the other alchemists laughed. "All my girlfriend sends is letters! I wish she baked like that!"

"So come have some," Al replied. "There's plenty for everyone."

"Cookies and cake for breakfast?" Riza commented with clear amusement as everyone started to dig in.

"Why not?" Roy grinned, taking a huge chocolate chip cookie and chomping out a large bite that he clearly relished. "What's the harm?"

For once, she really couldn't argue. With a smile, Riza just shook her head slightly. "Point taken. Alphonse, may I have a sweet roll please?" Besides, it would be a real shame to let lovingly prepared baked goods go to waste.

**August 25****th****, 1963**

The town of Larendon had never looked prettier, Tore thought as they rolled in a little after lunch time. "Beautiful sight," he grinned as he looked out the window.

Beside him, Cal was leaned back against the seat, his arms crossed and hands behind his head. "That it is. It doesn't look like a war zone."

"It's also got real beds, food, and beer," Tore snickered. "Come on, we actually have a week of leave! A whole week to do whatever we want." They hadn't had leave since they left North City, not really. Tore was aching for some freedom. "I wonder how Lilah and Cassidy are doing." They had been trucked south as soon as the village they had been in was reclaimed and back under Amestrian control.

"Good question," Cal glanced out the window. "You said Lilah has an apartment here right? So it'd make sense that they might be here. It's not like they'd have anywhere else to go."

"Not like most people do," Tore pointed out with a sigh. So many displaced folks without family living elsewhere to turn to or stay with; the government was already setting up refugee areas in the cities with temporary housing and food. Thousands of people had fled their small villages – and a few not-so-small towns- getting away from the Drachmans. Tore wondered if they would ever be able to go home after this. _Sure they will. That's what we're working for after all. _

As they got out of the truck, Tore saw Fullmetal booking it towards the train tracks, where there happened to be a train; military probably, sitting at the station. "I wonder what he's got planned for leave," he pondered. He definitely seemed in a hurry to catch that train! _Ahhhh. _

Cal seemed to have the same idea at the same time. "Well if you had the choice and were him, where would you go?"

**August 28****th****, 1963**

Winry pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face as she stepped back from the drill and wiped her face with a reasonably clean cloth. "There we go. Finished!" She picked up the auto-mail arm piece she had been working on and gave it a final look-over. It would need to be polished and the edges buffed and made sure there were no little snags, but other than that it was perfectly good for use. Tomorrow, the soldier laid up with a busted arm would have his replacement.

"Hey there, beautiful. How's about a date tonight?"

Winry spun, startled, then her eyes lit up and with a squeal she practically leaped across the span of feet separating her from the grinning man in the doorway. She almost crushed the flowers in his hand as she hugged him and gave him an enthusiastic kiss! "Edward," she gasped finally. "When did you get here?"

"Got off the train an hour ago," Ed laughed, hugging her back, though he seemed reluctant to let go. Winry could hardly blame him for that. They hadn't seen each other in almost three months, and she'd heard little more of him than usual except for notes in the reports that had him alive and unharmed. Still, seeing him for herself – feeling firm solid muscle and auto-mail beneath her hands – was far better than trusting in words printed in reports she got second hand. Though Ed_ had_ managed to call her once. "I've got two days before I have to head back."

"That's all?" She couldn't help feeling slightly disappointed, but she supposed that even if he had a week off, most of it would have to be spent on a train to come to North City and get back again. "I'm so glad you're here." She hugged him again, appreciative that he would spend most of that leave traveling for what little time they could have together! "Well it's better than nothing."

"I was going crazy without you around," Ed admitted softly. "So what do you say? When do you get off? I thought we could have dinner and then spend some time… alone."

Winry chuckled. Of course he would want that. "Sounds like a date to me," she kissed him again. "Let me finish cleaning up and we can get out of here." That had been the last piece she had to finish today, and she suspected cutting out fifteen minutes early wasn't going to be a problem. She pretty much got to set her own hours, and it was by her own choice that she often worked late.

She felt pleasantly self-aware as she cleaned up, knowing that Ed was standing there, openly watching her every move. While she certainly didn't mind, there was an appreciation in his eyes – and a longing – she was always pleased to see. It was nice to be desired; especially by her own husband!

"Ready to go," she told him a few minutes later, and grinned as he tucked one arm around her waist.

"Great. Let's go get cleaned up and find someplace to eat. Is there any place left aside from the mess?" Ed asked as they left the hospital. "I am so sick of field rations it's not funny."

Food first of course. Winry smiled knowingly. "There are a couple of places still open; mostly the bars that also serve food. They make a killing come pay days around here." Since there were so few left, they were actually getting fantastic business.

"Well then let's paint the town," Ed brought his hand up; the one holding the bouquet she had nearly smashed earlier. "Every beautiful woman deserves to be treated now and then."

Winry took them this time and sniffed the red and white blossoms. "They're beautiful. Thank you." As much pleasure as she got out of the compliment, was grateful for the chance to change. She smelled like machine oil and smudged coveralls were hardly appropriate dinner attire. Not that anyone in North City was dressed much better lately.

"I wish it could have been something more," Ed admitted, giving her a squeeze.

"Just having you is enough," Winry objected, smiling as she leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're alive and uninjured, and your auto-mail is even in one piece!"

Ed laughed. "I'm glad you noticed. You know, I really wanted to get it blown up again, but I thought you might object."

"Tease." Though she was enjoying every moment. There were times when Ed joked rarely. That he could now was a sign that he was all right in other areas that counted too, like his head.

"And you're not?" Ed countered, pulling her closer. "Always wearing clothes that only let me dream about what's underneath?"

Winry couldn't resist a wink. "Well when we get back to the room, you won't have to dream."

**August 29th, 1963**

If Edward had his choice, he wouldn't move from this place, this time, this company, for anything; comfortably wrapped around Winry, cradling her in his arms after a long, intoxicating night. They hadn't slept much, and dinner had been delayed by another need completely. After three months, having Winry change in front of him had been too much to bother with self control.

Dinner had been brief, and then they had once more retired to their little room in the barracks, completely absorbed in the each other for much longer than Ed had remembered he could manage. Either his endurance was up, or he was just that desperate; he decided not to decide which.

Exhaustion was a pleasant sensation; talking drowsily afterwards until sleep finally claimed them both. Now, with the fresh light of morning drifting through the dusty windows, Ed didn't want to budge.

Not until Winry's hand ran lightly up his chest without warning, sending a shiver running down his body from spine to legs! He couldn't help the small gasp that came from his lips.

Winry chuckled softly, blue eyes opening as her finger ran back down the center of his chest. "Good morning."

"Very good," Ed leaned in and kissed her again, like he had countless times last night. He pulled his right hand out from the small of her back, running it around the smooth curve of her side and hip, then up towards her breasts.

"Again?" Winry looked at him, unsurprised, but not displeased either. She looked amused. Apparently his amorousness was exactly what she had expected.

"If you're up for it," Ed chuckled.

"The question is," Winry teased, "Are you?"

"Always." Ed went to kiss her again-  
_  
Knock knock knock.  
_  
"Who's that?" Winry asked at the sounds coming from the door.

Ed groaned. Not now! "I don't know, but they're going to be sorry they're interrupting my day off. Stay right here," he grinned as he scrambled out from under the covers.

"Ed, wait!" Winry called after him. "Put on some clothes."

"What for?" Ed smirked as he reached for the doorknob. Let them know what they interrupted!

On the other side of the door were two soldiers – privates by their rank – who went from nervous to stunned as Ed opened the door and stood there, for just a moment, letting it sink in. One of the guys tilted his head slightly, saw past Ed, and then blushed, standing up straight sharply and saluting. The other matched him. "Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir!"

"Right room," Ed replied. "Care to tell me what you're doing here? I'm on leave."

"Yes, Sir," the first private nodded. "But General Breda is requesting your presence."

"How kind of him to make it a request," Ed replied, enjoying watching the two kids squirm. _What, you didn't think men over thirty slept with their wives? _"Is there a timeline with this summons?"

"At your earliest convenience," the second private replied. His voice squeaked slightly.

"Then tell General Breda I will be there at my earliest convenience," Ed nodded. "So why don't you stop ogling my wife and go take that message back to him?"

"I wasn't….I…" the first private stammered, then seemed to give up and, red-faced, nodded. "Yes, Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir."

Ed closed the door then and turned around. Winry, still covered by the sheets, was shaking her head. "That was cruel, Edward." She looked like she wanted to laugh though.

"They deserved it," Ed grinned as he crossed the room – chilly despite the season – and crawled back under the covers. "Maybe next time Breda will think before sending unseasoned kids like those to bug me when I have other priorities."

"It sounded important," Winry pointed out as he kissed her. "You should go find out what he wants."

"I will," Ed promised. "Just as soon as I make good on another appointment."

* * *

"Well you took your sweet time," Breda grumbled when Edward finally walked into his temporary office forty minutes after the privates had returned, nearly stammering their reply. When Breda had asked what the problem was, they had declined to answer. "What did you do to my men?"

Ed shrugged casually. "They interrupted."

He didn't have to say what. Breda just shook his head. He should have known. "That explains the look of terror on their faces. Anyway, I'm sorry to interrupt your leave like this, but I need your input and wanted to bring you up to date on a couple of things."

"What's up?" Ed's expression grew more serious as they got down to business.

"First, I heard last night from Rehnquist," Breda sighed. "The Drachmans refuse to negotiate excepting a willingness on our part to discuss our surrender."

"Figures," Ed grumbled, crossing his arms. "Bastards are as hard to budge as an ice flow. What's the other news?"

"Newest intelligence reports from Drachma and Briggs report more officers missing or confirmed dead," Breda continued. There really wasn't much else to say on the subject, though he detailed who they had or had not located. "There's almost certainly still a lot of people hiding out in the lower levels, and they didn't kill everyone, so that's something."

Ed's expression grew grimmer. "We've got to get to Briggs and do something about that."

"If we can, we will," Breda replied. There were plans under consideration, but right now they didn't have the manpower to spare.

Ed nodded. "All right, anything else?"

That was what Breda dreaded telling him most. "The fighting started this morning about an hour ago." In the distance, it could barely be heard, given the lines kept moving farther and father away. They couldn't shoot inside the walls anymore, fortunately. "And I got a report from Kane almost at once. I've got only his description, but he's sending film to be developed and footage back as we speak… They've pulled out Chimeras."

Ed's face went momentarily pale. "Damn it! Those bastards! What kind are we talking about, Breda?"

"Kane says they look like a combination of northern wolves and polar bears," Breda informed him. They sounded hideous to him; being half canine didn't help. "There's others, but those are real killers so far."

Ed nodded. "Sounds like it. I should take a look." His expression grew darker. "Damn them, they're going to pay for interrupting my leave!"

Breda looked at him with a momentary feeling of disbelief, then chuckled. "I almost feel sorry for them… almost."

Ed glared at him, then the expression broke and he chuckled. "Yeah. Me too."


	17. Chapter 17

**November 12****th****, 1963**

All was_ not_ quiet on the western front. Warzones were harsh, unyielding places, and this one proved to be no different. Though Edward knew full well that it was the same north of North City and out to the east as well. Months since the Drachmans brought out their next round of alchemical weapons – chimeras. They had shown up around North City first, but when Ed had returned from his all-too-brief leave to the west he had discovered that they were there too; reports put them in the east as well. The biggest, strongest of them so far were a breed of wolf-polar bear crosses that were massive, blood thirsty, and had thick layers of muscle and fat that made them hard to take down.

The battles had been rough; a lot of back and forth on some fronts, often over small towns or the same hundred yards of ground. As the Drachmans kept sending soldiers, the amount of progress the Amestrians made slowed.

For a while, the Amestrians had made a valiant push and made progress, but the Drachmans had dug themselves in again as the weather grew colder, and they were clearly more at home in the frigid icy rains that returned when fall set in, and the snow that came by late October. It made fighting against chimeras and the remaining Drachman Alchemists that much more complicated. The Drachmans had finally reinforced their alchemists as well; and the newer additions seemed to be better trained and have more tricks; though that might mean three or four instead of one or two. They also knew how to make use of the wind and snow to their advantage.

The weather was what Ed hated most. Cold, wet, it made his ports ache constantly; sometimes nagging, sometimes a sharp pain that left him nauseated. He was used to it happening occasionally when he elsewhere, but up here in the northern part of the country it was an unpleasant constant. Not that he griped about it. What good would it do?

So he didn't think much of it as he briefly doubled over outside his tent on the way to breakfast and vomited into the snow. He straightened up, pulled his thick white wool coat – the ones everyone was issued - back up around his neck, jammed his hands in his pockets and turned to go.

"You all right, Ed?" It was Fletcher, clearly heading in the same direction. "You're not getting sick on us are you?"

Ed shook his head and shrugged. "Nah. Don't worry about it. It's just one of the perks of having auto-mail in this _beautiful_ rugged climate."

Fletcher chuckled slightly at the sarcasm. "Nasty you mean. I miss Xenotime. I mean, we had mountains, but it was practically a desert."

Warmth; that sounded so good. Ed wondered if he would ever remember what warmth really felt like. Or comfort. He hadn't seen Winry since August. The fighting had gotten too fierce and leave in October had been cancelled. The Drachmans were targeting Amestrian alchemists now with more accuracy too. The death tolls among them were going up, and with each report Ed's resolve steeled further. The Drachmans were dead. If they wouldn't go home, Amestris might just have to kill every one of them. It was not an appealing thought, but it was less atrocious than it had seemed when the fighting started. "I'd take a warm bed with Winry," he commented as he kept moving, refusing to limp or look uncomfortable. He'd warm up a little bit and it wouldn't be as bad until he had to sleep again, or hold still in the wet, slushy trenches for hours at a time. It had come to that finally; fully entrenched warfare.

"I'd take Elisa over the desert," Fletcher agreed, his hands stuffed firmly in his pockets. "But I miss the heat! I haven't been this cold since I got married."  
"No travel?" Ed asked.

Fletcher chuckled. "More cooking. Though what I wouldn't give for one of her hot cherry pies. Maybe I wouldn't be as cold."

"Maybe, but it might slow you down," Ed grinned back. "Not that I'd object to pie right now either." They served hot meals out of the mess tents, but they were nothing now but military rations. It was a good day if they had salt and pepper, heated evenly, and didn't taste like sawdust. Pies, stews, a real roast dripping with juices and stuffed with fruit. It made Ed want to drool just thinking about it. He didn't though; his chin would freeze.

There wasn't a man walking around the place lately who didn't have a couple of days worth of growth on his face; maybe a week. Shaving meant a cold, wet chin, and there were already enough colds going around the camps that no one really felt like adding to their chances. Ed was just grateful he hadn't caught cold yet. On top of his ports that would just suck.

"I guess we'll have to do with the usual," Fletcher sighed as they got into the long line already waiting for morning oatmeal. They were lucky that the line wound around the _inside_ of the mess walls. "At least they've got syrup to put in it."

"Didn't you hear?" One of the soldiers ahead of them turned around. "They ran out of syrup end of yesterday."

So much for a breakfast that tasted like something more than basic nutritional sustenance. "I hope they have better food elsewhere than we do," Ed sighed as he settled in for the long wait. His stomach growled in protest and he swallowed as he felt another mild wave of nausea.

"They have better access to supplies," Fletcher pointed out reasonably, "At least for the troops above North City." They had pushed several days march – a couple by car – past the walls by now, and North City was considered out of immediate danger. "I bet they've got plenty of good things to eat."

Ed tried to tune out Fletcher's litany of tasty treats that they might have. All it made him was hungrier. Instead, his mind turned to the people in those places. How were they doing? What were they up to other than fighting for their country or tending the wounded?

**November 13****th****, 1963**

"I thought the old adage was starve a cold, General Breda."

Breda – mouth half open – turned and looked at the smug young doctor who had just entered his office. He took a bite of the glazed donut he was holding before he smiled. "If I starve any more, all I'll do is get colder." He had forgotten, coming north, that he hadn't been up so far into the cold climate in years; and just how much heavier he had been then. Even now he could see the smaller or leaner folks looking frozen as they made their way to and from the battlefront. "Besides, there are no dieters in a fox hole."

"I believe that saying is atheists," Ethan Elric laughed as he came over to the desk and looked down at the box of pastries. "Where'd you get them?"

"There's a bakery a couple of blocks away," Breda grinned. "Reopened the other day and it's been really popular with the soldiers. Someone brought up a box."

"Don't mind if I have one then do you?" Ethan grinned as he snagged a large cinnamon bun and took a bite. "Mmmm…these are fresh!"

Breda smirked, then paused to blow his nose. He hated colds; his nose always felt stuffed and his head heavy. "What happened to healthy eating, _doctor_?"

Ethan's returning smirk was the spitting image of his father's. "Hey, _I'm _not on a diet. In fact, if I go home any lighter my wife will probably kill me."

Breda could only wish he had that problem. "So did you come here to steal my treat and harass me or did you have legitimate business?"

"I'm a doctor and a family friend; I'd say that's legitimate business wouldn't you?" Ethan chuckled. "Checking in on the people who aren't stuck in the hospital is part of my job too. Besides, subsisting on pastries and coffee isn't good for anyone."

"In other words, all of the above, I get you," Breda snickered.

"These things are fattening," Ethan pointed out unnecessarily as he finished one and snagged a second.

"It's called insulation," Breda replied. "Something you clearly don't understand."

"Not for lack of trying," Ethan quipped. The man really was just like his father that way. Still smiling away as he munched on the cinnamon bun. "Seriously, I just thought I'd check in on a few people on my off time."

"And I'm at the top of the list?" Breda asked. Given the hour if it was his time off he'd be sleeping in!

"Per my orders," Ethan nodded. "Not just because we need you alive to run this operation, but because of a personal request."

A personal… Nancy had asked Ethan to keep an eye on him? Or had she just asked that he be kept an eye on in general? Or was it even his wife? It could have been Charisa, who had started University in Pylos in Creta – far from this mess – at his insistence despite her objections that she should be in Amestris right now. Fortunately his last letter from her said that she was doing all right, making good grades, and had been full of questions about his health. "Do I get to know who it was from?"

Ethan shook his head. "Nope. Though you can probably guess that there was more than one. You know if you want better food there's some to be had now. Don't make me pull rank and take away the treats," he winked.

"Pull rank?" Breda snorted. "How so?"

Ethan continued to look amused. "Simple, I'm a civilian, a doctor, and the doctor assigned to you while we're out here. I don't actually have to take any orders you give, but what I say in regards to your health will have a direct effect on your life and on your command."

He… had a point. Breda shook his head. "Clever, but too true. I should be grateful you've followed orders so far."

"They all made sense," Ethan replied. "So I'm going to give you a little advice, and no I'm not divulging which sources I glean information from, but you need to get more sleep, get out of this office more, and drink more water and less coffee."

Sources indeed; Breda would have called them Falman, Feury, and Heimler. As if they had room to talk! Breda shook his head, but chuckled. "Tell your informants they'd make lousy field intelligence officers; they're utterly transparent."

"And here my wife was complaining how opaque I can be," Franz Heimler chuckled as he came into the office with a sheaf of papers. "New reports from the front, Sir." He handed them over. "President Rehnquist's office called. They'd like a report before this afternoon's Assembly meeting."

Breda picked up the papers and started shifting through them. "Anything else?"

"Yes sir," Heimler nodded. "They wanted to inform you that Creta has successfully voted to send troops to our aid on the western border and that they should arrive within the month."

"Now that's the best news I've had in days," Breda grinned, then rocked as he sneezed hard. He reached for another tissue.

Ethan was looking at him. "I'll have someone locate you some orange juice, hot herbal teas, and we'll see about finding you something to eat other than deep-fried sugar."

Orange juice and hot tea actually sounded good about now, though Breda was still disgruntled about the pastries! They were one of the few things lately he liked! "Thanks," he replied with some honest gratitude. "Despite your blatant stealing of military provisions, I do appreciate the offer."

Ethan nodded as he headed for the door. "Anytime, General. Just ask."

Breda shook his head as he watched Ed's son leave the room, followed a moment later by Heimler. Like he was going to ask Ethan to keep pestering him! Laughable really, though… he might take him up more often if it meant something to drink other than pitch-tar coffee and water. At least it was nice to know someone up here still cared about more than whether or not a person had a hole in them. Oddly enough, that lifted his mood as he went back to his paperwork. He reached out to the box for another pastry and stopped cold. _Damned kid, he took the last one!_

**November 15****th****, 1963  
**

It was easier to kill in a snowstorm, Al thought between alchemical attacks. The lack of visibility, the howl of the wind, and the biting cold made for a detachment from the targets themselves. It was tougher because he couldn't necessarily see his opponent before they attacked; but the chimeras they seemed to be fighting more than anything else lately on the edges of their firing lines were vicious, used to snow, and not something Al felt any compunction against putting out of their misery. He understood – perhaps ironically now – how putting them to death was perhaps an act of kindness.

Somehow, he was also warmer when he fought in the snowstorm. It had something, Al supposed, to do with the fact that bundled up warm in the cold-weather military gear and pumping that much alchemical energy, he ended up so warm he was often sweating by the end, but the sweat wasn't against his body, whisked away by the wool, so he was just warm and dry.

It felt good not to feel guilt about attacking his opponents, and more often than not killing them. He still had issues with killing people, but out of necessity, he found he was getting used to it. The Drachmans wouldn't stop, rarely retreated on their front unless pushed mercilessly. So Al, and the other alchemists, fought with everything they had; sometimes at distance, and sometimes up close and personal.

Like now, as the wolverine-and-eagle chimera diving towards his head met a bitter end as Al sent it flying sideways into the mountainside with a cruel swirl of wind that pounded it flat, then he ducked and dodged claws that came out of nowhere. The attack had come during the storm because no one could see to shoot. The chimeras roaring practically into camp had not caused the panic Al suspect the Drachmans had hoped for; instead the alchemists were on them within a minute.

"Look out!" Felix Tringham called out, and a bright flash temporarily blinded him, but also the chimera that came charging out of the snow; another one of the bear/wolf combinations. Al shoved it backwards with the same whirlwind and saw the bear die as something caused its side to explode, spurting red and internal organs into the snow as it toppled, screaming in pain.

Al dodged out of the way, barely avoiding slipping on a patch of ice in the rapidly deepening snow. It was hard to see what was under his feet too.

To his right Al heard the sound of a human scream this time; an alchemist almost certainly. The soldiers had been ordered to retreat and let the alchemists deal with the chimeras. Guns were no good in this weather; not in the kind of brawl this was turning out to be. It would be too easy to shoot friend instead of foe.

There was already too much blood on the snow; whether it was human or chimera it was impossible to tell. Al could only hope more of it was the blood of the chimeras than any of the people fighting alongside him, though he knew when this was done they would face the dismal reality of losses. He'd already leapt over one human body in the snow.

_Make that two, _he grimaced as he stumbled, saw a face stuck in an expression of terror, and kept moving. He ran into another chimera moments later and this time dropped to avoid it's swing at his head and punched it straight through with a rod of rock straight up from the ground.

Something slammed into his shoulder and Al spun even as he fell and rolled, hands to the ground once more. Above him something large and white growled, bled, and died. That had been a close one! It took Al a moment to scramble out from under the hot, dripping carcass and stand. _Damn I'm going to need to clean this coat._ Fortunately alchemy, Alyse had shown him years ago, was excellent for stain removal from white laundry.

It took him a moment to realize the chaos had quieted, and the shouting around him now was more people checking to see who was alive. Al got his bearings and headed for the largest knot of voices. It soon resolved itself into Roy Mustang, Alex Armstrong, the two Tringhams, and a couple of others. More than one was bleeding. "Are they all dead?"

Faces turned to look at him, relief evident. Roy nodded. "Dead or fled. A couple of them were smart enough to try and return to their masters." His expression was grim however.

Around them, Al could hear the regular soldiers starting to set things right even in the near white-out conditions. He shivered, and wished he had something to blow his nose on. "How many did we lose?"

"Fifteen soldiers, and four alchemists," Armstrong answered. "Reskel, Oaks, Fell, and Vyrkos."

Al cringed and understood the pain. Oaks had been one of Al's men, Fell Roy's, and the other two had both been in Armstrong's unit. They were all good alchemists and men. They would be missed. "Everyone else all right?"

"A couple of nasty wounds, but mostly just surface. Are you all right?" Riza looked at him with that expression that brooked no arguments or hedging.

Al smiled grimly. "I'm all right. I think I'm in for a huge bruise on my shoulder, but no other injuries." Bumps, bruises, maybe a cut though he didn't think so; he just hurt from getting slammed around and the cold seeping into him now even with the layers. "What's the damage on the camp?"

"A few tents lost," Hal Brewster commented as he appeared out of the falling snow, his muffled footprints barely audible above the sounds of people already driving tent-stakes and reassembling the destruction. "But I think we'll be able to repair and make due. It will take a while for a requisition to make it up here in this weather, though I'll put it in to command immediately."

"Looks like a few folks will be getting cozy," Russell commented with a sigh. "Come on; let's get patched up and into something warm!"

"Yes please," Al agreed, turning and heading with the others back towards where the alchemists' tents still, fortunately, stood. Though a couple were leaning badly.

"We'll see about that," Brewster sighed. "They tramped a lot."

Al snickered as he pulled his coat close around his neck with gloved hands. He'd clean it first. With alchemy he didn't have to get it wet to get the blood off. Not that the blood spatters bothered him much anymore; but they might bother some of the other men. "Just tell me they didn't destroy the mess tent. I want coffee."

* * *

"If it gets any colder I'm going to need a girl in my bed just to keep from freezing," Tore grumbled from inside his military issue sleeping bag. He was tucked up on his bed waiting desperately for his covers to warm up enough for him to be able to sleep properly, like he did every night. Above him, the tent creaked slightly, heavily covered in snow. Even the wind sounded cold.

"I'm not sure I want to know what an army issue girl would look like," Cal snickered from his own cot a few feet away. "Not that I'm objecting to the idea. It would be sure to boost morale."

From the hint of pain in his voice, Tore knew that Cal was suffering from the cold as much as he was; if not more so thanks to having an auto-mail leg. That had to be cold, and from living with Fullmetal he knew that the ports could hurt something awful in this kind of weather. "We could see if there's a way to warm the tents better with alchemy."

"Or a catalytic heater," Cal suggested. "They could issue _those_ easily enough. Okay, so maybe not easily. I'll definitely have to ask around and see if any of the alchemists know a trick for warming the air. There has to be one."

Tore was glad they agreed on something. He shivered, despite being wrapped up cocoon style in his sleeping bag. "If they knew one though, I think they'd have shared by now."

"Don't get depressing on me, Shock," Cal snorted. "Let's go back to the issued girl as bed warmer idea. I think I like that one."

"Got a particular woman in mind?" Tore knew the jibe was not a new one; but it always got a good response. Cal did the same to him all the time anyway.

Cal groaned. "No, why?"

"Because you've been oddly pensive lately and you still keep fingering Alyse's letters." It was pretty hard not to notice. "Have you even written her back? You haven't gotten one of those in a while. Or maybe you made her angry with something you said in the last one," he commented thoughtfully.

Cal's reply was a curt, "Hardly. We've been busy. Besides, I told her I might not be able to write for a while."

"Doesn't mean she's not probably waiting and hoping you will," Tore replied. "I mean… I got a letter the other day." He might as well admit it.

"From Charisa Breda?" He now had Cal's interest. The other man wriggled around in his bedroll and Tore saw his face appear in the tiny hole left for it.

Tore nodded, the whole sleeping bag bobbing with his head. He felt a little warmer just thinking about it. "Yeah, from Creta. It took a while to get here, but it's about the University." She also asked how he was doing and, while she likely didn't know exactly where he was, she seemed quite aware already of the kind of things they might be facing. Still, it was almost a month since it had been sent. He planned to write back immediately, hoping she would get it sooner on a return trip. It had been a very friendly letter, not romantic, but full of warm concern and details about her life and how much she abjectly hated not being there to be involved in the war, but how much she was enjoying her studies even though it was sometimes tough to concentrate. But Tore didn't think he needed to tell Cal all that.

"Are you going to write her back?" Cal asked.

"Of course I am," Tore retorted. "She took the time to write me a very long and involved letter and, for once, it was just friendly. I'm not going to let her think I completely forgot about her." Like it had certainly seemed the first time he left Central. He had learned a lot of things from that trip; this was one of them. "You ought to write Alyse back too."

"Who are you… my conscience?" Cal asked, his eyes looked less thrilled by the moment.

"Oh, I wasn't aware the position was available," Tore quipped, grinning even though he doubted Cal could see much more of it than Tore's eyes. "Can't a guy be concerned about a buddy?"

"Only to the point where his buddy doesn't want to strangle him," Cal countered.

"I'll take that risk," Tore couldn't help saying. Really, he couldn't see why Cal didn't make another open move on Alyse. Okay… amending his own mental statement; he couldn't see why Cal shouldn't, especially when this was all over. While Tore was sure he had very little chance of ever convincing Charisa to give him another shot, Alyse Elric certainly seemed willing from what he'd seen, and her consistent correspondence. He wouldn't believe any statement that she was just asking for the northern weather forecast.

Cal sighed. "Yeah, I'll get around to writing her back again. Get off my case now?"

"Sure," Tore relented at once. _Again_ huh? "You can thank me later."

"What for?" Cal asked.

Tore closed his eyes, readjusted, and tried to feel warmer as he prepared for sleep. "Oh, you'll figure it out."


	18. Chapter 18

**November 16****th****, 1963  
**

_Alyse,_

_ I'm sorry it's been a while since I wrote. I did get your last letter, but things have been kind of nuts lately. I'm not really sure how to explain most of it either. A lot of it's combat, or sitting around in the cold freezing and waiting for combat. Fighting chimeras isn't the same as fighting soldiers, or other alchemists even, though you'd think fighting animals would be easier. _

_ I guess the most interesting news would be that I ran into some folks from my hometown. That includes Valeria. It's funny, but I think I must have run through how I'd deal with her hundreds of times in my head over the years, and it just wasn't that way at all. She doesn't mean anything, and after seeing her I actually sort of pity her. She married a jerk, had four kids, and then the cheating bastard got himself killed even before the invasion started. She doesn't even look like I remember. This probably sounds terrible, but I also felt kind of justified. At least I've done what I said I would. Anyway, we got her and her kids out of the war zone. I'm not sure where they are now. A mutual acquaintance told me recently they headed South to stay with a friend who left town years ago. _

_ The other person we found was my mother. I'm glad she got out, but she was ill and she passed away the night we found her. I'm not sure if it's some kind of sick joke on the part of the universe, or a blessing of some kind that I got to talk to her in person one more time. She gave me more good advice in that one conversation than she did my entire childhood. It seems weird that I miss her now more than ever, when I almost never visited at all after leaving town. It makes me wonder if I was any better a son than my dad was a father or husband. It makes me uncomfortable. _

_ I hope you don't mind my writing you all this. There really isn't someone around here I can talk to, and writing it out to nobody just seems stupid. Besides, you're a good listener and you know the story. It's nice to know someone living who cares is on the other end. Thanks. _

_Regards,_

_Cal _

**November 19****th****, 1963**

Will was grateful for the occasional special treatment the State Alchemists received. While it wasn't much, he was appreciative of anything that made things a little easier. He had never been soft. He was fit, and the last few months had put him back to where he'd been in high school, if more muscular, but that didn't mean he was prepared for the rigorous cold. The parts of Xing he enjoyed had been closer to Central in climate, and he really enjoyed the warmth of Creta. This far north was definitely _not _to his liking. He'd dealt with it before of course, but that didn't mean he enjoyed it. Research in Drachma had best been done in the summer!

Now, a bit north of North City in a smaller town called Prestown, he was glad that the alchemists had been offered rooms in the local hotel, at no expense to the military. Given they had just pushed the Drachmans out of the town, Will wasn't surprised. He was sharing a room with Derrick Tringham, who seemed to be very much a younger version of his father. They got along well though. If not for the fact that Kane had left Maes Mustang in North City – technically assigned to protecting the medical facility and having never changed the order – they would be sharing it three to the room.

"It's still hard to believe he left him behind," he commented to Derrick. Maes was the current topic of conversation.

"Maes was not happy when we left," Sara – perched on the edge of Will's bed – commented with a sigh. Her injuries had fortunately healed up quickly. "I don't think he realizes that Kane is doing him a favor."

"A favor?" Derrick looked puzzled as he sipped a bottle of soda. "How so?"

Sara looked like she would rather not say more, but she shrugged. "He's not in top form, especially not for him. He's already been injured twice. And, frankly, he's too invested in this on an emotional level."

"Aren't we all?" Derrick pointed out. Will sat quietly, listening to the discussion.

"There's a certain amount of distance a good soldier, and especially an alchemist, has to keep to make sound judgments on the battlefield," Sara pointed out patiently. "On top of having the necessary focus to pull of transmutations and often work in tandem with another alchemist and making sure you don't hit your own men. What we do requires a level above in concentration from most others. I think, for Maes, this isn't just about fighting Drachma. He always wants to prove himself, and with him that's not always good. I think Kane just wants him to take the time to think a little and refocus."

It made sense to Will. Apparently it did to Derrick too, since the younger guy nodded. "He _is_ pretty intense."

A knock at the door made them all look up. "Come on in," Will called. It didn't sound like the Sky Fire Alchemist. He had a rather distinct knock that Will knew by now.

The door opened and an office aide came in carrying what looked like a telegram. "I've got a message here for Lieutenant William Elric?"

Will had been given First Lieutenant status when his uncle passed him. "That's me." He stood up from his chair and walked over, taking it. "Who sent it?"

"It came into the main communications office in North City this morning," the private commented. "I was ordered to bring it to you directly instead of sending it on with the mail."

A telegram, from home most likely, that Breda's office had seen fit to send on more urgently. _Ren! _That was the only news he could imagine getting pushed through so quickly. He practically ripped the telegram getting it open!

_William, last night at eleven fifteen Ren gave birth to a beautiful boy. He weighs six pounds even and is nineteen inches long. Both are well. It was a relatively easy delivery. Minxia is enchanted with her brother. Ren says that his name is Michio, like you agreed. They will be coming home from the hospital tomorrow. Love, Mom _

It took a moment for Will to realize his hands were trembling, just slightly, and his eyes were damp. But he was smiling.

"So are you going to tell me about my newest cousin?" Sara teased, obviously as aware of what the telegram likely held as Will had been.

Will laughed. "You can go," he finally dismissed the private. "Thank you." Then he turned to Sara. "I have a son." It seemed a wondrous thing, even already having one darling daughter, that he should have a son. "His name's Michio. I… on man I need to call Central!" He needed to talk to Ren himself. He had the overwhelming urge to hear her voice, know for himself that she was fine, that _their children_ were fine.

He heard Sara laughing as he bolted out of the room to go find a phone. Let her laugh! He pelted downstairs three at a time and nearly ran into the man who owned the small hotel at the bottom of the stairs. "Excuse me, sir," he blurted out. "I need to use your phone… please."

The balding man looked at him with some amusement. "Sure. Must be important. You can use the one next to the front desk."

"Thank you!" Will resisted the urge to hug the man as he continued around the corner and picked up the phone.

"Operator, how may I direct your call?" A female voice came over the line.

"Operator, please put me through to the military hospital in Central." Will would have just dialed it himself, but he didn't know the hospital number off the top of his head.

It took several minutes to get from one operator to the one in the hospital, and then get himself transferred up to the maternity ward. The nurse went to see who was available.

"Hello, Will?" He recognized his mother's voice at once.

"Mom!" Will smiled. It was good to hear her too. "I just got your telegram. I had to call." The words came out in a rush. "How's Ren? How's Michio? Can I talk to Ren?"

Elicia started chuckling on the other side. "I'm sure you can talk to Ren in a few minutes. She's just about finished feeding your son. I can put Minxia on if you like."

His daughter; Will felt warm inside thinking of his family. He hadn't talked to any of them in so long! "Please."

There was a short pause and then it was clear who was on the other end as the babbling began. "Daddy! I miss you! I have a brother! He's cute and little and he cries really loud, but he doesn't do it a lot so that's okay. Mom says his name's Michio but I can call him Mich if I want. He doesn't seem to know that's his name yet though. Grandma says that's normal. Mom says if I'm really good she'll let me help changes his clothes and diapers and stuff when we get home!"

"That's great, sweetie," Will smiled, the emotional knot in his throat tightening as he listened to his little girl babbling excitedly. Even in the time he had been gone, her vocabulary and diction had improved. Her fourth birthday had been only a few days ago, when he still hadn't had a phone to call home.  
Minxia babbled for another minute before she got off and Elicia took the phone back. "Did you enjoy having your ear talked off," she asked?

"I feel like I've missed so much," Will admitted, swallowing. "She's grown so much in just a few months."

"She likes to help in the kitchen now," his mother chuckled. "Okay, here's the woman I know you really want to speak to."

"You know I like talking to you too, Mom," Will objected, though he didn't complain when he heard the phone shift again.

"Hi Will," Ren's voice was like music for his heart; a soothing wash that took him away from where he was and transported him into her arms. At least in his mind. "I'm so glad you called. I wasn't sure you would be able to."

"We're in Prestown," Will told her. "Just got here yesterday actually. The man who owns the building we're staying in let me use the phone. I just got Mom's message and I nearly ran the poor manager over looking for the phone and…and damn it I'm babbling. How are you? How's our son?"

Ren giggled. "We're fine, Will, though Michio has quite the appetite. You'd think I hadn't been feeding him the last nine months."

Will chuckled. "Good for him. He'll grow like a weed."

"You keep saying that when he's a teenager trying to eat us out of the house," Ren teased, though she sounded happy and relaxed, if tired.

"I will," Will promised. He had certainly done the same to his parents after all. Not that he would mind as long as his kids were healthy and happy. "I miss you so much. I'm sorry I wasn't home."

"It's not your fault," Ren replied patiently. "You're doing something important. I'm glad to know you're safe, and I am so glad you were able to call. I can't wait for you to get to meet him."

"I can't wait either," Will replied, though he knew it would still be a while. He felt better now, for having called, but also impatient. "Tell them both I'll be home as soon as I can. I love you."

"I love you too," Ren answered, and there was a small kiss sound on the other end of the line. "Call again if you can sometime. We love the letters, but hearing you is so much better."

"I know, I will. Talk to you again soon." He couldn't bring himself to say _goodbye. _

When he finally hung up, he noticed Sara and Derrick were standing there.

Sara smiled. "Sorry to call you away already, but Kane wants us for a meeting. You ready?"

Will nodded. "I am." Ready, and with a new determination to end the war as soon as possible. "Let's go."

**November 21****st****, 1963**

"It's amazing how much he looks like Will, even with darker hair," Alyse marveled as she tucked her just-bathed nephew into a warm, fuzzy-footed sleeper. Ren had left the hospital yesterday, and Alyse had volunteered to come stay a few nights at her house to help out. Of course Grandma and her mother would be over a lot too during the day, but Alyse wanted to help. She loved her niece, and now her new little nephew. Minxia was always an inquisitive, clever child. Michio was sure to be little different if he was anything like his father.

"It is," Ren agreed. "He already has similar expressions. Which is good, I think. It makes him easy to figure out so far." She had just finished taking a bath herself while Alyse had helped Minxia get into her pajamas and then bathed Michio. Having helped when Minxia was little, Alyse sometimes surprised herself that she knew a decent amount about taking care of babies.

Alyse chuckled as she handed the boy to his mother. "That's good. I grew up with Will and sometimes figuring him out was interesting." She couldn't help but feel just a little envious as Michio snuggled immediately into his mother's embrace.

"I'm ready for my bedtime story!" Minxia grinned as she bounced into the room holding a large book with colorful pictures. "Can I read it to you, Aunt Alyse?"

Alyse smiled. Reading was something else Minxia was starting to do. The books had only a few words for each picture, but Minxia was proud of every page she read on her own. "Of course!"

She sat down in the living room of her brother's house; a rather enjoyable mix of Amestrian and Xingese decorating that somehow all balanced to create a relaxed and yet tasteful and current environment. Minxia dropped down beside her on the couch and began to read and Alyse did her best to focus on _The Playful Lion_. It didn't take long to get through. When she was done, Minxia hugged her and then Alyse helped put her to bed.

When she came back downstairs, Ren was sitting down, Michio latched firmly on her breast, sucking away hungrily. "Thanks so much for you help today," she smiled. Since it was a weekend, Alyse had not had to go into work.

"I was glad to do it," Alyse smiled, sitting down across from her sister-in-law. The last couple of days had been eye opening for her as well, in a couple of ways. The first being that this was the first time she had ever witnessed a child's birth. Ren had invited her and Lia to do so, and Alyse had decided to take her up on it; pleased and honored that Ren wanted her there.

While she had known, academically, what was involved, witnessing birth first hand had been a moving experience. She had a new respect for Ren too, even on top of the sisterly affection they already shared. Ren had stayed so calm through the whole thing, despite her obvious discomfort, and in the end, there was that tiny, wrinkled, pink-skinned crying child that was still somehow one of the loveliest things she had ever seen.

"Well I'm still allowed to appreciate it," Ren chuckled. "Will was such a help with Minxia. I could do it on my own, but I admit it's nice to be able to take it easy."

"Well you should be allowed to after doing all that work," Alyse smiled. "I can't imagine how I'd handle it."

"You find out when you find out," Ren smiled. "I didn't know until I had Minxia."

Alyse sighed and chuckled softly. "Well I think it's going to be a while before that happens." _I'd need to have a boyfriend first. _She hadn't been on a date since Vince broke up with her, well not that really counted. She suspected if she had called their evenings hanging out _dates_ Calvin Fischer would have panicked like a goose come holiday season.

"You have time," Ren smiled understandingly. "In the meantime you're welcome to play with mine all you like."

"Thanks," Alyse replied with amusement. That offer helped them both after all. It was still strange to realize that, while she really _wasn't_ ready to have them now, she did want a family, and not _when I'm grown up_ or _maybe in a few years._ She was tired of just dating. The one thing she had learned from her time with Vince that she did not regret; she _wanted_ long term. She wanted stability. She wanted a man she could settle down and raise a family and feel fulfilled with. _So why is my heart wrapped around Calvin? _

"I know that look," Ren commented. "You're thinking again. Got_ someone_ on your mind?"

Ren knew her too well now. Alyse saw no point in arguing that it could be _what _instead of whom. "Yes," she admitted. "I got another letter yesterday, finally. It was the longest one yet, and the most personal; at least on his end." She wouldn't say what specifically, but his admission of his insecurities and worries – and the comment about being able to write to her – had left her feeling warm inside, but once more confused.

"That sounds encouraging," Ren replied as she shifted Michio, who seemed to have dozed off, and was no longer eating. She readjusted her shirt. "Have you written back yet?"

"I'm planning to work on that tonight or tomorrow," Alyse replied. "I'm just not entirely sure what I'll say yet. After this one, I'm grateful, but a little worried. He's been through a lot lately… personally; more than just in combat."

"I see. Well then it's a good thing he has someone to talk to doesn't it?" Ren smiled.

Alyse nodded. "Of course, and I'm grateful it's me… I just still wonder if I'm crazy to read anything more into this."

"After Vince I can understand why," Ren replied. "But I've never seen you hesitate on anything you really wanted. Eventually you'll have to say something and discuss this or he'll figure it out anyway."

This was also true. Normally Alyse was very decisive about what she wanted. But she had thought she knew what she wanted, and had been close, and yet way off on one thing; the boy. Vince hadn't worked. Some part of her brain said Cal shouldn't work either, but the times they spent together, the way they could talk now, more upfront and relaxed, it was definitely the basis for something. And yes, Cal would figure it out if he hadn't already. He was too experienced not to. "Yes, he will," she conceded. "At least, nothing really needs to be said until after the war." Right? "It's something I'd rather talk about face to face."

"That's reasonable," Ren agreed. She shifted and stood. "He's out. I think I'm going to put him in his basinet."

"All right," Alyse watched her go, then stood up and went to put on hot water for tea. She would make sure to write back to Cal tonight, so he wouldn't have to wait too long for a reply. Personal correspondence of that nature deserved as immediate a response as possible.

As she waited for the tea to boil, Alyse realized something. _I worry about my father, and Will, and the family. I haven't given barely a thought to Vince, even though he's up north somewhere. Yet a lot of my thoughts are drawn to Cal. _That, if nothing else, said quite a lot.

* * *

_Dear Cal,_

_ I'm sorry to hear about your mother. You speak so well of her, I would have liked to have met her sometime. Your run in with Valeria sounds like it was difficult. Running into exes after a difficult end is often painful. I'm sorry you had to go through it, but I'm glad it seems to have gone all right. No, I don't blame you for feeling justified, but I'm glad you felt sympathy. As I have said before, you sell yourself short sometimes, but there's a lot about you that most people don't appreciate enough. She didn't, and she lost out on a lot more than just you. If you weren't at least a little sympathetic though, you wouldn't be the caring guy I know hides behind that casual façade. _

_ I'm touched that you feel comfortable writing to me and telling me these things. I promise, not another soul will know the contents of what you write to me. Just as I have never divulged anything personal I have learned in our conversations. _

_ My family is well and sends their regards. While you may hear before I send this, or may not, my brother's new son was born a couple of days ago. He's quite cute, and surprisingly well behaved. Of course, give him time and I am sure he will learn to be as adventurous and clever as my brother. It was an easy delivery, and I am staying over at their house for a few evenings to help Ren out with Minxia and Michio and some of the things around the house so that she can relax and rest. I enjoy it. Especially spending time with Minxia lately. She's so inquisitive, and starting to read. She loves to play games and is so much like a small adult at moments. I didn't do a whole lot of babysitting growing up; I was usually too busy. But I'm enjoying getting to spend time with her._

I hope you're staying warm. I can't imagine the food is great. My father and brother's last letters both complained about military cooking, and Uncle Edward's note straight up complained about how awful it was. When you come back, I'll make you something delicious to make up for it. Got any favorite dishes? You did know I can cook right? I just realized I'm not sure it's ever come up in conversation. I'm not quite as good as my mother or Grandma Gracia, but I've never had any complaints.

Take care. I hope this finds you quickly. I received your letter with surprising speed, so I guess communication delivery lines are running fairly well right now. 

_Fondly,  
Alyse _

**November 23****rd****, 1963  
**

"Aunt Lia, I'm done with my homework," Trisha said as she put the pencil down on the kitchen table in her family's kitchen.

Lia went over to look at her work. Trisha didn't have a lot of homework, but occasionally mathematics gave her a little trouble and tonight's assignment had taken a while after dinner. She picked up the sheet and looked over the equations. It only took a minute. "Much better," she smiled. "You got them all right this time."

"That's because your explanation made more sense than my teacher's," Trisha smiled. "I wish you could be my teacher."

"Isn't that what I do at home?" Lia chuckled, giving the sheet back. "I teach history and composition, not mathematics. And I'm not certified to teach elementary school. That's a lot more subjects than I teach, and all in one class."

"But you're good at it!" Trisha sighed, putting the paper in her book bag. "It just makes more sense the way you talk about it. Like when daddy helps me with my homework."

Ah, now that was a whole different story. Lia gave her a quick hug. "Well I'm glad to know I'm almost as good as your daddy is at helping with homework. So, now that you're all done what would you like to do now?" It wasn't quite bedtime, though James was upstairs putting on his pajamas. Or at least, Lia hoped he had. She could hear him playing with toys in his room. Sometimes he remembered, and other times he got distracted by fun things, like most little kids.

It was a trait she found as endearing as Trisha's surprisingly patient way of listening when Lia explained something. That, at least, she seemed to have gotten from Franz, despite being so very much like Sara a lot of the time. Or perhaps, as she had heard from Edward and Winry, Trisha really was a lot like Sara, who had apparently been a very well behaved, patient, polite little girl for most of her childhood.

Ever since Ethan and the others left, Lia had been spending a lot of time with Trisha and James. While Gracia and Elicia usually watched James during the day and Trisha was at school, Lia often took them in the afternoons, evenings, and regularly spent the night there, or had the kids at the Elric house with her. With Ethan gone, her only responsibilities at the house were making sure the dogs and the cat were taken care of, and everything stayed generally neat. That was easy when she was the only one there. It was great for getting grading done, but it got lonely quickly.

Though having so much time with her niece and nephew only whet her appetite for a family even more. She had been eager and happy when she and Ethan decided it was a good time to go ahead and start trying for a child of their own; one that would almost certainly be only the first. Lia had always wanted siblings, and Ethan agreed that two would certainly be agreeable; he enjoyed having a brother and a sister himself, even with the age difference.

It hadn't happened before the war broke out, and while she regretted that slightly, Lia knew it was better this way. Ethan would have been heartbroken to miss the pregnancy and the birth as much as meeting their child. He had gotten into the idea surprisingly easily, given how cautiously he had taken every other step of their relationship.

_For him, children are a known quantity. _Ethan loved little kids. He had helped deliver Coran, and Trisha, and plenty of other babies even before he finished his collegiate training. He knew more, probably, about labor and delivery than Lia did, though she and Alyse had been there while Ren was having Michio.

After witnessing that, Lia understood her husband's relative comfort with the idea. He already knew about all that, unlike most men going into starting a family. He was used to kids around and loved his niece and nephews.

"Aunt Lia?" Trisha's little hand waved in front of her face.

Lia blinked then shook herself slightly. There she went, dreaming about Ethan again. "I'm sorry, sweetie, I was just thinking about something."

"About Uncle Ethan," Trisha asked with a knowing grin. "It's okay. I think about Mommy and Daddy and everyone a lot too. But they'll be okay. Mommy said in her last letter they're doing really well."

"You're right," Lia smiled back. "I bet they're all doing great." When Trisha said it so confidently, it was easier to believe in her heart. Even knowing Ethan wasn't on the front lines right now, and his last letter declared him safe, healthy, and well-fed… well, that didn't mean she didn't worry. Who knew what could happen in a war. "Come on," she stood up. "Let's go find your brother and how does hot chocolate before bed sound?"

"Sounds great!" Trisha beamed then hurried out of the room. Lia heard her feet as she ran up the stairs and couldn't help smiling. Even with their parents off fighting, even with so many people risking their lives and so much danger not so far away, children still had time to be positive, to see the bright side, to have confidence that good would win.

Lia promised herself she would continue to do the same.

* * *

**  
Author's Note:** Another little Elric! Michio (pronounced in Amestris "Mih-key-oh"), nickname Mich (pronounced between "Mick" and "meek." So a soft lifted I more than IH or full EEE).


	19. Chapter 19

**November 29th, 1963**

"Are you sure you don't want painkillers?"

Edward was getting tired of that question. "Positive," he replied gruffly to Finn as the two of them hunkered down on the front line trenches with the rest of his unit. At this point, there was no real hiding how much his auto-mail ports hurt spending so much time out in the cold and wet. He wasn't the only auto-mail patient in the military, not even up here, and while they were all suffering, none of them were double-amputees, and none of them seemed to have the agonizing pain that Ed suffered. Of course, given they all had Rockbell Auto-Mail, and they all had the newer port designs, specially lined to help minimize discomfort or dangers like frostbite where the ports touched skin, he was not surprised, only a little jealous, that they did not have to suffer as much. After a few days, his nonchalance about the occasional nauseated vomiting had been noted amongst the alchemists and the soldiers who saw him regularly. He still refused to whine. He was getting tired, though, of the ones who knew him best asking if he wanted to take something for the pain.

Forget the fact he couldn't take _any_ of the traditional Amestrian painkillers strong enough to help. While Ethan's developed drug would probably have worked well enough, there was very little of it available to distribute still so far given its relatively new production, and it was still only available in an injection form. Ed did not like the idea of getting stuck with a needle every time he felt lousy.

"You don't have to play tough for us," Finn snickered, but there was a sympathetic look behind his eyes. Ed wondered if he and Lordes had ever forgiven themselves for their unwitting part in his final act of stupidity that had sent Winry running years back. Ed had never held it against them. It wasn't their fault he had forgotten his anniversary, or that he'd been having problems at home or with drinking. After finding out - and after he had gotten back to normal - they had actually come to him - Polasky too - and apologized. Things were okay now, though they had kept a more respectful distance ever since then. They had to wonder why Ed had put two of them on his own team, but they hadn't worked up the nerve to ask yet.

"Who's playing?" Ed shrugged, keeping his head low. They were waiting for the next pause in the Drachman attack. Today's strike mission involved getting into the front lines of the Drachman trenches and wreaking havoc and destruction. For now they waited, surprisingly indifferent to the sound of gunfire above their heads. Nothing could hit them down in the depths of the alchemy-dug trenches anyway. They were too deep and well made.

On the other side of him, Lordes chuckled. "All right, stop _being_ so tough. You're making the rest of us feel like wimps for griping about the cold."

"That's because some of us are," Fletcher quipped shamelessly. "I've never seen a point in worrying about comparisons between myself and living legends."  
_  
Cheeky bastards. _Still, Ed smiled. "At least one of you has some common sense."

"Not really," Lordes countered. "If we did, none of us would be out here playing soldier and hero. I-"

The sudden lessening of gunshot caught Ed's ear and he put up a hand, silencing everyone. "That's it. All right, you know the plan. Go!" With that, he braced himself and vaulted up the ladder and over the edge of the trench and into the fray.

They had maybe half a minute, if they were lucky, to cross the distance and drop into the Drachman trenches. Ed hated the feeling of slowness that came from making the run across the four-inch deep snow that covered the ground. A few stray shots whizzed around him as he ran, keeping himself as low as possible, as the other alchemists fanned out. A cluster would be disaster. Not that this was any better. Ed focused in on his own task. Run; run, and don't die. He slid the last couple of feet and leaped into the enemy trench, Drachmans staring at him in shock as his hands slammed together and struck the ground as he landed. All along the trench spikes of earth shot up all over the place, disarming soldiers, piercing soldiers, destroying equipment. The shouts of surprise turned to cries of pain and anger. Attempts to fire were nearly useless without a clear line of fire, which Ed did his best not to give them.

Further along the trench in either direction he heard similar cries of anger and surprise, followed by pain. The rest of his unit members were doing their jobs in their own way. To his right he saw vines and roots snaking through the trench doing much the same job; disarming and capturing the enemy, squeezing them tightly so they couldn't escape. Fletcher wouldn't kill purposefully, though Ed knew he'd knock the soldiers unconscious and several would be taken captive. Those who fought hardest would have to die though.

A shot nearly hit him; Ed felt the warmth of the bullet's passing on his cold cheek. Dodging and ducking, he dropped low and rolled under a large outcropping of earth, and came up attacking. In moments his arm was a blade and it cut through the gun that had shot as he closed with the enemy, shoving him down and disarming him. Ed slammed the man - fairly young from the face, even scruffy in the winter - into the wall and pinned him there with bars of metal. Mercy when he didn't have to, but it would have to do as he hurried on down the line, running and fighting with both alchemy and his arm blade. Mission objective: wreak havoc on the lines however possible, primarily by rendering men and weapons useless. Kill any chimeras. Kill or capture any Drachman alchemists for questioning.

A mission that turned out to be as challenging as Ed had expected, despite going surprisingly well for him personally. Was he really this used to warfare? Was he that much better than even these younger, hard-trained men? Or maybe their training was not all he assumed. He startled them, over-powered them, and out-thought them. A lifetime of training and putting that training into practice made him formidable, no matter how humble he might try to be on the subject from time to time.

Then the firing began again. This time from the lines behind them, and Ed came around a corner to find himself face to face with ten armed Drachmans waiting for him. _Shit! Time to go! _They all knew they were to fall back when they met re-organized resistance or were too outnumbered. If nothing else, Ed had also learned the value and timing for a strategic retreat. He blocked the first shots fired with a wall of dirt, turned, and ran! He sprinted back through the maze of trenches he had just come through, ducking around his own mess; leaping bars and points of earth or rock; pushing past the dead and dying as he hurried for a low-point, then had to cut right instead of left when he found himself blocked by another alchemist's work. He cut right again shortly after, and nearly tripped as he stumbled right over a familiar form. "Finn! What the hell?" He straightened himself and looked down.

The younger alchemist was cradling Lordes; his friend's head on his lap. "C'mon, buddy," he was whispering frantically. "Hold in there! We'll get you out of this. Angie's waiting for you. C'mon, don't let her down."

Ed took in the hopelessness of the situation in a second's glance. The hole from which blood had already poured was right through the chest, so close to center Ed was almost certain it had hit him in the heart. Lordes' body was already still. He might still be warm, but even a Xingese trained healer with years of experience - or a desperate friend or love with a philosopher's stone willing to sacrifice themselves – wouldn't have a chance of bringing him back. "He's dead," he replied flatly, barking to make sure the words cut through Finn's momentary lack of awareness. He was completely focused on his friend; not the mission at all. He was bleeding from a cut to the head too. "Finn. Back to the line! That's an order."

Finn looked up at him sharply. "But Fullmetal, he-" The disagreement died on his lips as reality set in again. Ed could almost see the anguish in his eyes switch off as combat training took over once more. "Can we take the body?"

"We can come back for it." That was all Ed could promise. They were wasting precious seconds. "Come on, Major. Let's get out of here."

Finn followed, sluggishly for a few seconds, than he started following Ed full tilt again, expression nearly blank as they clambered out of the trenches and bolted for the safety of the Amestrian line. Ed didn't stop until he nearly ran into a wall. Then he came to a halt, sucking in ice-cold air despite how much it felt like it might freeze his lungs. He was panting, sweating in his coat from exertion; almost too warm to feel the agony of his ports anymore. The irony; combat warmed him and the metal enough to make it bearable.

He chose to ignore the slight trembling in his arms and legs. Muscle fatigue? He refused to admit that he couldn't do a mission like this and not feel it. Not a chance! As he got his heart rate slowed and his breathing more normal, Ed looked up and around for the rest of his unit.

Finn had collapsed on the ground, still panting, his head buried in his face. Ed didn't shout at him anymore. The guy had just lost one of his best friends in the world. They'd palled around together for as long as Ed could remember them, and he had heard that the two had come to Central to take the classes and exam together. Ed felt his own pang of regret and loss for that of a colleague and one of the alchemists he had helped train up for this.

What if someone else had died? "Get inside and get warm," Ed commented as he squatted down, ignoring the pain in both knees, and put a hand on Finn's shoulder. "Get to the medics and get your wounds taken care of. Got it? Don't repay Lordes for his friendship by dying."

Finn looked up at him, nodded numbly, and staggered to his feet. "Yes Fullmetal, Sir." Solemnly, he headed away through the trenches towards the back of the line.

Ed headed along the trench, looking for the rest of his unit. He first found other alchemists from other units, some who had been involved, most not; staying on the defensive attack end essentially for this one. Then he found Torv, limping but not bleeding, down the trench towards him. He sighed in relief. "How'd it go?"

Torv shrugged sheepishly. "Twisted my ankle running back. I don't think it's even sprained. I took out a chimera and about twenty soldiers, three machine gun nests, and two of their alchemists who refused to come quietly."

"Nice work," Ed smiled back. "Have you seen Fletcher?"

Torv nodded. "Tringham's just back the way I came, still catching his breath."

Not surprising. "Head in and get warm," Ed gave the same order. "Get your ankle looked at, then find Finn and make sure you both get into something dry and get food." He sighed. "We lost Lordes."

Torv's expression paled momentarily. Then he nodded. "Yeah, I'll find him."

Ed left him be and went to find Fletcher. It wasn't hard to find the other man; he was leaning against the wall behind a line of firing soldiers, red-faced and sides heaving from the exertion of all that running and transmuting. He never complained though. Ed had to give him that. No matter what he asked, Fletcher always kept up, did his job, and made it through even though he had come to this level of physical challenge late in life. "Ready for a relaxing jog?" Ed teased as he came to a stop beside him.

"If I keel over Russell and Elisa will never forgive you," Fletcher teased. "The kids either."

"How about if we go eat instead?"

The suggestion was met with a tired grin from that dirty face. "I think I like that order."

"Good," Ed nodded. "Cause if we drop here it's going to make alchemists look bad." That and he preferred to grieve the loss of comrades somewhere less public. He had seen the casualty reports on soldiers and alchemists alike that Kane had sent him. Each dead alchemist was like a stab to his heart however hard or callous he might like to be. Lordes was the first under his direct command to be lost since Matthias back in Aerugo. Ed could only hope that he would be the last.

"Let's go then," Fletcher replied, a concerned expression on his face though as they started walking. "You look grim."

"Lordes is dead." There was no reason to make it sound nicer than it was.

Fletcher flinched. "I'll miss him. He had a good sense of humor. Are you all right?"  
_  
Perceptive._ Ed shrugged. "I will be. I hate losing anyone though. It's like a personal insult." Not that he had ever entirely decided why he felt that way. "But it's such a waste. No matter how much training I can give them, anyone could still die out here. I hate it!"

Fletcher nodded sympathetically. "It's not your fault though."

"No it's not," Ed agreed emphatically. That, at least, he had come to accept no matter what his guilty conscience tried to tell him. "It's not my fault, or theirs. It's the damned guys up in Drachma and behind the soldiers here who decided it was a good idea to start trouble where they don't belong." He winced, forcing himself to calm as his stomach clenched slightly, warning of impending nausea if he worked himself up anymore. Now was not the time for another anti-Drachman alchemist tirade, no matter how satisfying it might be. "Let's go." He picked up the pace slightly. He wouldn't drink, but that didn't mean he couldn't _eat_ to the memory of a fallen comrade.

**December 9th, 1963**

It was still strange to feel a warm breeze wafting in through the window in December. Charisa Breda wondered if she would ever get used to it. Not that she was complaining about the good weather! She enjoyed being able to sprawl out on her bed in her dorm room in short sleeves while she did her reading assignments. It was just such a stark contrast from home, and from northern Amestris, where most of her written correspondence came from these days. Her father's letters were actually pretty decent in length, though they tended to detail stories of goings on in the office, or anecdotes, and emphasized that he was doing fine and that she didn't need to worry about him. She also heard that other people she knew were okay through him. Mostly he asked questions about her classes, her friends, and life in general. She responded with full details, bugged him about taking care of himself, and asked more questions in return.

The other letters she got from the front were a little less cleaned-up than her father's. She had written Tore from school not really sure if she should expect a response or not. She had no idea how long it would take a letter to get from the far western coast of Creta to Amestris and then to find Tore on the front. She had been a little surprised the first time she received a reply, but also grateful when she read it. Tore was having it rough out there, and it sounded like he could use all the friendship and support he could get. He wanted to reach out to her, to talk, and appreciated her writing him. He'd made that very clear in his first letter. Since then, having her address, he wrote regularly, even if she didn't have time to send long replies when swamped in course work, like right now when she had final semester exams coming up in a few days.

Tore's letters told a much more realistic story of a man in the trenches, an alchemist fighting people, hating having to kill but doing it out of necessity. The letters were, in a way, more the Tore she had known than she had seen in a long time. It was reassuring even as it hurt to read the challenges he was facing. Not that he told her everything, but she knew him well enough to be able to guess at things he left out as much as understand what he put in.

The latest letter, still laying open beside the book for her Introduction to Law History course, was a prime example.

_Dear Charisa,_

_How's that bear of a language professor? I bet you're probably studying hard for finals by now. I hope it's going well. Better you than me! Cretan might as well be from another world as well as I understand it. It's even trickier than the bit of Drachman I know._

Though I wish I was in Pylos right now. It's frigid up here. I can't get really warm even when I'm huddled up trying to sleep, and we're out of just about anything but basic necessities. Do you have any idea how lousy oatmeal is without sweetener or milk in it? With just water it's disgusting. Not even all that hot if you're not first in line. What I wouldn't give for a decent meal and some warm air.

The fighting has been pretty intense lately. We haven't had leave in months, and we've lost a few guys. Well, a lot of soldiers, but the alchemists too now more than before. It makes me wonder if they're figuring us out, or if they've got better guys now, or both. I'm sick of things blowing up under me, around me, on top of me. I'm tired of my friends dying. I know what we're fighting for. We can't afford to lose, and I'm not going to let that bastard who killed my mother and my uncle get away with attacking my home and the people I care about.

I'm glad you're in Creta. It seems like it's got to be a paradise compared to this, and when it's all over, things will still be a mess for a while. But you'll be able to come in and help fix them, because you're incredible like that. You'll do your part, and it will be helping rebuild when this hell is over. Take care. Is it too much to say I miss you? Well, I hope not, since I only have a pen and it's on the paper now. I do miss you, a lot. 

_ Thanks,  
Tore_

The fighting was obviously bad, and conditions for soldiers weren't dire, but they weren't comfortable. But behind the griping, Charisa could tell that Tore was still uncertain at times, still scared; of death, of failure. She had also noticed that he didn't talk much about what he did in his off time. Not that he seemed to have much of it. But when he'd had leave in the past, he hadn't talked about it much other than to say he was glad for the reprieve. It made her wonder. Then there were moments where she was pretty sure she didn't want to know. He was an adult, and a soldier; well State Alchemist, but it was the same thing with a different MO. She didn't need to listen in on her father and his buddies' old stories to know what grown men little more than boys did with that kind of time. Military boys or college boys, they seemed to be a lot alike. She just wished the ones around her would grow up a little more!

"I thought you were studying?"

Charisa blinked and looked up at her roommate, Lexandra Almonetti. "I am."

"It doesn't look like it," Lexi shook her head, grinning, dark straight hair swaying. "Not unless that letter's on the final."

Charisa was momentarily embarrassed. She had opened Tore's letter again and it lay on top of her textbook. "No, it isn't," she folded it back up and set it down on her white-and-pale-blue abstract floral coverlet.

"It's from your alchemist friend, isn't it?" Lexi sat down on the edge of the bed on the other side of Charisa's book. She was a perceptive woman, double majoring in philosophy and psychology; a dangerous combination in Charisa's mind. Lexi was far too observant. Not that she looked like that kind of a brain with her slim frame in tight jeans and a pale green tube top.

"Yes, it's from Tore." There was no good denying it. She had received a few from him already.

"Right," Lexi grinned, "The one who's got a thing for you."

"_Had_ a thing," Charisa corrected. "We're just friends now."

"You think that means he doesn't?" Lexi asked. "He sure writes often." It was only the second time Lexi had tried to get information about her relationship with Tore; previous and current. Last time she had gotten the very brief version. Apparently she was still curious.

Charisa shrugged and sat up, leaning against the wall by the window. "I told him I wasn't interested in seeing him again like that."

"And did you mean it?"

Well that was an annoying question. "Yes."

Lexi's smile never faded. "Do you _still_ mean it?"

"Well of," Charisa cut off mid-sentence. She meant to say of course, but the last word wouldn't come. "I'm not sure," she finally admitted softly. It was the first time she had allowed herself to admit it. She had meant every word when she told Tore she wasn't sure she could trust him that much again; that she didn't think they should go out at the time she'd said it. She still felt she had been right. But did _this would be wrong right now _translate to _forever?_ She still cared about Tore very much. They had been best friends too long for her not to still worry.

Lexi nodded. "So if you're not sure, why would he be? You said he wanted you back and it's barely been two years right?"

"Two years is a long time," Charisa tried to argue.

"Not enough," Lexi sighed, but smiled anyway. "I know a thing or two about guys."

"So do I," Charisa snorted, smiling back. She'd had a few boyfriends after all. Tore hadn't been the first, or the last. "Sure, he might, but he hasn't said a thing other than wanting to be friends again since then."

"He doesn't want to get burned again," Lexi argued. "If he's tried hard to get your trust back, do you think casual friendship is really all he wants?"

_No. Not in a million years. _She had seen it in his face too many times. He'd been amazingly well behaved the last two years, she had to admit, but he was still jealous of her boyfriends, and always trying to be there, to be supportive, to prove himself again. He worked harder than any of her other exes. While they'd had more to start with, it still seemed like a lot. "No," she admitted that too. "But it's not like anything would come of it anytime soon no matter what happens," she pointed out logically. "I'm here for at least four years, maybe six, and he's fighting a war." A war she still felt guilty to not be a more active participant in, even if she couldn't fight. She should be doing _something _back home.

"Did I say anything about now?" Lexi teased gently. "He seems like a survivor. He probably won't die before you make up your mind and say something."

Now that was an unfair blow. "Are you trying to be the nosy matchmaker, Lexandra?"

"No," Lexi shook her head. "I'm just trying to make sure my friend doesn't regret her decisions later. You don't have to tell him anything or try and start some romantically tragic long-distance-by-letters war love story that ends in sorrow or anything. Just really think about the situation and be fair to both of you. _You_ still like him too. Maybe you shouldn't be together. I've never met him, I really don't know." She stood up again. "I'm going to the commissary for a snack. You want something?"

"Sure," Charisa said, looking at her textbook a moment before standing up instead. "Actually, I think I'll come along. I've been reading that thing for two hours already. I need a break."

"Good idea," Lexi grinned as she grabbed her wallet and keys. "After all, too much thinking is as bad as not thinking at all."

"That's the truth," Charisa chuckled as she picked up her own wallet and followed. Whether it was studying or personal, the statement definitely applied to both. No matter what happened though, she still worried about Tore. What if something _did_ happen to him?

**December 20****th****, 1963**

"What is all that ruckus?" Edward groaned as he heard a lot of voices as people started passing by his tent outside. He had just sat down and was preparing for the unpleasant task of getting into clean, dry clothes to sleep in.

"I'll find out," Fletcher offered. He was still standing by the entrance to the tent. He ducked back out, and returned only a few seconds later, grinning. "Good news! We have reinforcements!"

What? Ed paused in reaching for his boot. "Breda didn't say he was sending anyone."

"To you maybe," Fletcher shrugged, still grinning broadly. "But then, these aren't Breda's troops either. Come see!" He vanished outside again.

With a sigh, Ed stood and headed back out into the quickly falling darkness. People were pouring past his tent still heading towards the road. He could see a line of trucks as he got closer, despite the press of curious people. _Those aren't Amestrian trucks! _Suddenly Ed knew exactly who he was looking at; President Argyros of Creta – the second Argyros – had agreed to send Cretan troops to help fight Drachma. Not _all_ of their army, in case Drachma decided to retaliate against them too, but it looked like they had sent at least a division!

Ed made his way towards the small knot of open space in the crowd, where he found the Generals from both sides conferring. He also saw an unexpected familiar face. "Ziro Argyros."

The president's younger brother turned and grinned as he recognized him. "Edward Elric!" He detached himself from the official goings on and came over, shaking his hand eagerly. "It's a pleasure to see you, though I could wish it was in better circumstance…and someplace warmer," he added.

Ed noticed that Ziro himself was not in uniform. "You too. Delivering your brother's promise?"

Ziro nodded. "We can't let Drachma get away with this. If Amestris falls, what's to keep them out of Creta? We're smaller, and we don't have as big an army. Besides, we've got friends here."

Ed had known the Argyros family ever since Sara and Aldon were little. In fact, that first visit had been back when Aldon was barely six months old, and Ziro here not much older. They were friends with the Mustangs, and had maintained a good relationship with Breda during his time as president, though after Ziro's father had stepped down, there had been a much more neutral president before the eldest son had run and been elected. "It's nice to be remembered," Ed chuckled_. So much for sleep for the moment._ "You want to get something hot to drink?" They at least kept coffee going almost every hour of the day and night.

"Please!" Ziro nodded, his even-toothed smile flashing eagerly. "I don't care if it's sludge as long as it's hot."

"That's good," Ed chuckled as he turned and lead the way towards the mess tent. The crowd around them, seeing him now, let them through with little trouble. He was in a good mood now, despite the cold and the aches. They had reinforcements, and they still had friends and allies in Creta. "Because hot sludge is about all we've got!"


	20. Chapter 20

**December 21****st****, 1963**

_Hi Alyse, _

_Yes I remember you can cook. Though I think you told me that years ago. I've never had your cooking though. I'm not sure what to say my favorite food would be. I'm an alchemist and a guy, so I'll eat anything that tastes good. I guess it would have to be these blackberry tarts my mother used to make when I was a kid. I don't remember anything ever tasting so good._

On that note, yes the food is pretty pathetic up where we are. They're out of most anything that counts as a luxury and still only shipping us the bare necessities. 

_ Congratulations to Will and his wife. I bet he's going nuts being away from home now. I'm glad you're having a good time helping out. It sounds like your niece really likes you. Not that I'm surprised. You're fun and easy to get along with. I bet most kids like you._

I'm staying as warm as I can. Tore and I hunted down a transmutation that warms air and have been using it inside our tent. It takes the air a couple of hours to cool down again, but by then we're usually warm and asleep.

Oh, some good news. Cretan soldiers arrived here last night to reinforce us up here. It's nice to know we still have allies and that actually means something. 

_Take care,_

_Cal _

**  
December 22****nd****, 1963**

The arrival of the Cretan soldiers had two immediate effects. On the part of the Amestrians, it was an immediate bolster to morale and confidence. Not only did they have huge reinforcements, but they knew now for sure that Creta had not abandoned them. On the side of the Drachmans, intelligence reports immediately started bringing in a sense of urgency on the part of the enemy. It would only be a matter of time before the Drachmans retaliated. Edward was only a little surprised when the Drachmans chose to make another full out attack against the Amestrians barely two days after the Cretans' arrival, probably hoping to catch everyone off guard before they had a chance to get in position and work up strategy. It wasn't an unsound theory, except for one problem on the part of the Drachmans; the Cretans had come prepared to fight as soon as they stepped out of the trucks.

The Drachmans attacked before dawn. It was a surprisingly still morning, with little wind, but flurries falling slowly. It would have been peaceful if not for the gunshots that broke the silence. It was barely light enough to see; the sunrise obscured by thick gray clouds. At first, Ed saw no signs of the alchemists as he hunkered down just behind the front lines with the rest of his unit. They had expected an alchemical attack first; more of the chimeras maybe. The huge bear-wolves were enough to terrify most soldiers and send them running, since shooting them did almost no good unless a man was lucky enough to hit it in the eyes, nose, or the right spot in the throat. No easy shots would fell them.

The general volleys of shooting went on for the first half an hour without anything unusual, aside from the fact that the Amestrians were well supplied and reinforced. They finally matched the Drachmans in numbers. Ed remained at the alert, though it was tempting to lean back against the wall behind him and rest.

"We may not see much action today," Torv chuckled, doing just that. "You'd think they would make more of an effort."

The radio at Ed's hip crackled to life. "Command to Fullmetal Alchemist," was barely understandable.

Ed picked it up. "Fullmetal here, over."

"New orders," the voice crackled again. "We're making a press today. Breda wants to make an example of them out here. Alchemists will make another rush when the front line charges with the shields." Another relatively recent development; light-weight shields reminiscent of old knight's shields, only alchemically strengthened and designed to bounce incoming fire. "We're closing the distance and making this a point-blank fight."

Rendering the Drachmans firepower useless; Ed liked that idea. "Roger, Command. We'll be ready." He looked up at his unit. "You all heard that?"

The others nodded. "Should be interesting," Fletcher commented, looking a little nervous. Ed knew he didn't like getting in close and personal in the killing zones.

"We'll show them they're out classed and out gunned," Ed replied reassuringly. "Besides, with the shield wall, this should be a rout when they have to deal with us head-on instead of from the trenches." At least, that was what he hoped. He trusted Breda when it came to strategy, but without those shields charging against the Drachman line would have been suicide for far too many people.

A shouting roar and a charge of men up out of the trenches with shields forming a barricade a hundred yards long was their cue. "All right," Ed leapt up. "Let's go! Stay close, but don't make yourselves multiple targets." Once more he was grateful that the alchemists were wearing uniforms that blended in with everyone else's. Until he started transmuting, a State Alchemist could be just about any officer.

As he went over the lip of the trench with the rest of the alchemists spread out around him, Ed was also glad that he had chosen _not_ to wear his full rank on his sleeves into this particular campaign! General he might be – retired or otherwise - but out here those stars just screamed _target. _

* * *

Tore and Cal had their act down to an art. Tore couldn't help grinning as he watched the Whitewater Alchemist turn a twenty yard square area of snow under the feet of the charging Drachmans into a slick of water on ice that sent them slipping as Tore dropped to the ground, sending jolts of electricity dancing across the water in dramatic arcs. He probably could have made it so they weren't visible, but the effect was as unnerving on the soldiers around them who weren't attacked as the shock hitting the ones who were. Most went down unconscious or dead, though several fell flopping and crying out; sturdier than the others, Tore supposed.

Run down twenty yards and do it again. Then repeat. They had done this four times already along their side of the line, and Tore was pretty sure by themselves they had killed or wounded at least eighty Drachman soldiers. They had bayonets on their rifles, but what good were they if they never managed to reach the enemy? Drachmans fought in the snow and ice, but now the weather was turned against them. Tore found the irony grimly humorous.

He had expected to be bothered more by the up-close-and-personal combat. It was strange for Tore to find it exhilarating, and almost a relief. They were alchemists, fighting exactly the way he had been trained. He would not have hesitated to shoot with a gun if someone tried to shook him first, so there was no reason to hesitate to kill the Drachman soldiers charging in after not only him, but so many of his comrades in arms.

"One more run!" Cal called out as he came to a sudden stop and dropped again. Tore did the same, still behind the advancing Amestrian and Cretan shield-wall. An ingenious idea really despite how old fashioned it seemed. The alchemical enhancements made it work.

Tore followed, right on schedule sending the electricity out, pulling it from the energy around him and in front of the line Drachmans twitched, screamed, and dropped. Maybe a handful managed to slam against the wall. "This is almost too easy," he snickered as he and Tore turned to head back down the line, keeping low to avoid any friendly fire. The Amestrians had slightly higher ground here, and they could shoot over the shield-wall into the Drachmans. Though he knew that would stop as soon as the wall broke. Which looked like it would happen any minute.

"When we can't hit our own, it's going to get harder," Cal pointed out as they ducked behind a low rise to breathe. "We'll all be intermixed soon."

Tore nodded, gulping the cold air into his lungs. It already felt like they had been awake for hours, despite how early in the day it still was; running, dodging, transmuting. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

There was something exceedingly satisfying about the feel of metal on metal as his arm blade slammed into, then broke, the bayonets on the Drachman rifles. In hand-to-hand they were all right, but the Amestrians – especially the alchemists – were better!

When the wall broke and the two sides came together, Ed understood the exhilaration of ancient warfare. It was no longer about just who could shoot from a distance. It was personal, it was up-front, and it was about the skills he enjoyed using most!

The Drachman in front of him stared as Ed sheared his rifle completely in half before he grabbed the guy's uniform, spun him around, and sent him flying into three more soldiers. There was no way they could maintain a line with the chaos the alchemists and other soldiers were causing. Ed pushed deep into the fray; where he was unlikely to miss and hurt any of the Amestrians.

::This is what you get for coming where you don't belong!:: Ed shouted in Drachman as he ran the next guy through. The Drachmans seemed consistently surprised to hear someone shouting in their own language. Ed had made sure to teach the alchemists with the front a few choice phrases in Drachman. It was something to do on cold nights as well as useful. _You may surrender. I would like to speak to your superior officer. Stop. Your mother is a polar bear. _All sorts of useful phrases. They seemed to enjoy the insults most.

The next Drachman blinked, a fatal pause as Ed's elbow slammed into the side of his head and his rifle felt to the ground, where Ed crushed it with a quick alchemical jolt and came back up, swinging it like a club into the face of the next man who rushed at him. ::Nothing personal,:: Ed snarked as he kept moving, throwing himself fully into combat. There was nothing but the fight; strategy, action, and the conclusion of one move as he flowed smoothly into the next. Drachmans would die, but none of them seemed to touch him. He was too fast, and he kept catching them off guard. They couldn't deal with the flips and moves of a younger man when his face declared him old enough to be most of their fathers, possibly _grandfathers_ if they were bad guessers.

The ground below Ed's feet rumbled violently, and the only thing that kept Ed from being tossed to the ground was his own sure-footedness. He leaped, rolled, and came up in a break in the chaos, looking around sharply. Earthquakes were uncommon up here, so he was unsurprised to see the Earthshaker Alchemist, Torv Skald, in his element. His ability to reshape the landscape was proving useful as Drachmans tumbled, fell, and were tossed casually off in a variety of directions by the simple movement of the ground itself. Ed suspected that back closer to the primary line, it wasn't nearly this bad. He saw a knot of Drachmans closing on Torv and headed in that direction to give him some back up. "Nice work!" He complimented the alchemy as he dropped into step beside the taller, thicker-built man.

"Lots of good ground to work with," Torv grinned. "There's a couple of splits just ahead. I think I can dump half their reserves into a twenty-foot ditch if I can get there."

"Then let's get there," Ed grinned back wickedly.

It was like mowing the lawn. With Ed's earthen spikes and the shaking ground, the Drachmans around them fell back almost too easily. This really was going to turn into a rout! "Where's the spot you need to be?"

"Right about, here," Torv stopped a few seconds later. "All right," he grinned. "Here we go!" He concentrated, dropped to the ground where the stone was not covered in snow, and began to draw a transmutation circle. This particular work required more variation than some others. Ed stood watch. The fighting seemed to have moved away from them for the moment. He hoped it was long enough.

Something in the air caught his eye at the same moment as Ed's instincts made him duck to avoid the first round of bullets he'd run into in nearly half an hour. Something bright against the sky that made him wish he'd worn the glasses he used at home for driving. It was a shining blur that seemed to be streaking towards them.  
In less than a second the world changed. "Look out!" Ed barely had time to shout before the flaming projectile clarified itself into what looked like a spear of metal but burning with bright orange-white flame. Then one landed less than three yards to the left with a sharp _thock_ as it stuck into the ground.

Another arched upward, then two, three, ten. _Oh shit! _ "Let's go!" Ed spun to Torv as the next spear slammed to the earth--

-- right through the other alchemist's chest!

Torv's eyes bugged wide as his mouth fell open, emitting nothing more than a startled gurgle as he slid down the flaming stick to the ground.

Dead on impact. Torv had come out of the same State Alchemist class as Sara and Fischer. Ed shook himself, and turned to run. The whistling of the flaming spears echoed all around his ears as another struck to his left, and then one more to his right. _This _was what the Drachman alchemists had been cooking up!

Instincts took over, and Ed could not remember moving so fast or with such precision as he ducked, dodged, and turned occasionally to shoot one of the things out of the sky with a well placed attack. Then he turned and ran again, slipping and sliding on the ground as he pressed back into the fray. There was the line. There was Amestris. Soldiers he recognized, though the chaos increased as the flames caught on uniforms and soldiers fell to the ground to roll them out, or died where they stood.

His sides were aching and Ed tripped, scrambled to his feet, and kept moving. _Where the hell did they get something like this? _It was of caliber with what he would have expected from a State Alchemist, only deadlier. They weren't shooting this out of any canon or tank. They were definitely alchemist made. _Or several alchemists. Like before. Each one is good for a shot, maybe too. If we can just outla-_

Searing agony shot past him again and as he dodged Ed felt a painful wrenching as his left leg collapsed out from under him and he fell, slamming face first into the ground. His mouth filled with dirt and ice, momentarily dizzy, his nose throbbing from impact. His port felt like it had been nearly wrenched from his body! A wave of nausea stalled him as Ed vomited up the last remains of breakfast onto the frozen ground even as he struggled to get up, and found he could barely drag himself forward. Glancing back over his shoulder he saw why.

One of the projectiles had nailed him perfectly in the auto-mail leg and completely ripped the prosthetic from his body! The port was still attached, but it felt like it was burning. All around him he could see legs and feet pounding past, apparently ignoring men who were down. _Oh shit. I wish I was dreaming this. _He was down, injured, in the middle of combat. _Winry is going to kill me. _

If the Drachmans didn't first. Ed kept dragging, trying to find something he could use as a crutch if he got to his feet. His vision swam when he tried to hold his head up for more than a few seconds. _Miust have knocked it harder than I thought. _He couldn't afford to pass out. If he did, he might as well roll over and die now!  
It could be worse. _It could have been my other leg. _At which point he'd be pinned to the ground, screaming in agony, and if he survived, he'd be looking at another auto-mail surgery and limb.  
_  
Enough positive thinking. Living…focusing on getting out of here! _A wandering mind was not a good thing right now either. Ed kept dragging. Drops of blood hit the snow and he realized his nose was bleeding. His face stung with what felt like scrapes too. The part that hurt most, other than his port, was a spot on his forehead that was starting to throb in the cold. It felt like it was bleeding badly too. Head wounds usually did. _Just what I need. _

The crowd around him was thickening, not growing more sparse, but in the chaos he heard thundering behind him. Either the Drachman alchemists had another volley going, or the Amestrians were fighting back. The air behind him was so thick with alchemical energy he could feel it from where he lay.

Ed's vision was going. White edged turned to black. He pulled himself forward through the chaos with his eyes closed. He couldn't stop, but his energy was waning. If he had to pull off another transmutation he was going to be worthless.

There were hands on his shoulders. Ed heard voices but in the melee he barely understood them. He couldn't even tell if they were Amestrian or Drachman.

"-Fullmetal!" One word came through clear and Ed felt himself being hauled upward. Then he was leaning against someone in Amestrian uniform. That was all he could tell when he opened his eyes. That was enough. He let himself rest his weight on whoever it was. They recognized him, and it wasn't the enemy. The voice sounded familiar too… if only he could place it.

"Stay with me," the voice continued.

"Shit, look at all that blood," another voice commented. Ed felt something pressed against his forehead and another person under his other arm.

"You there?"

It took Ed a moment to realize he was being addressed directly. He didn't try to nod, but it occurred to him that he should respond. "Yeah."

That one word seemed to be enough for his _rescuers. _Ed stumbled along, barely conscious until they stopped moving. He had no idea how far they had come. Only that he had been practically carried, and the sounds of fighting were fading.

He was lowered horizontally again, only this time he found himself lying on something dry, solid canvas fabric. Then he was moving again. _A stretcher, _his mind supplied. That implied they were behind the lines. He was safe for now. His fighting instincts relaxed, and Ed slipped into blessed unconsciousness.

* * *

Tore refused to cringe as the doctor bound his arm with clean bandages. It was only a scratch, a stray shot that had grazed his upper arm on the outside, but it needed to be tended to. What he really wanted was a hot bath – unlikely – and a drink – even more unlikely out here. They had all been on the front so long that even hidden stashes in the tents had run dry. Or people weren't sharing what little they had left.

"That was something else," Cal commented. He was standing in the corner, hands in his pockets and looking as dirty, wet, and wrung-out as Tore felt. The flaming spears had been unexpected and devastating. Almost single-mindedly, every available alchemist had converged on the point from which the things were being 'launched.' He and Cal had been among them, and Tore had seen the alchemists launching death into the skies for himself. There had been four of them. Now, there was one, and he was a captive of the Amestrian military. _That'll show them. _They had descended upon the four en masse and had found them as near-useless facing close-combat alchemists as their predecessors, if more competent with their other skill.

"That's it," the doctor commented as he taped the bandage in place. "I'll give you clean bandages for it. You can bathe, but don't scrub the area for a few days, just change the wrappings."

"I know the drill," Tore promised as he stood up and pulled his uniform shirt and jacket back on over his tank top. "Thanks, Doc."

The man nodded, accepting the thanks with a simple nod. "Just don't show up in here bleeding again or with an infected wound, and we'll call it good."

"Right." Tore smiled briefly then turned to Cal. "Let's get out of here."

Cal followed him out. "You don't want to check on Fullmetal?" He sounded surprised.

Tore cringed. "Not right now. I heard one of the nurses comment that they aren't letting anyone in with him yet. I want to get cleaned up and eat first." He didn't feel like eating, not without much to look forward to, but his body was screaming for sustenance after the fighting. They stepped outside into the late-afternoon gloom. It was snowing again, lightly. "Got a spare smoke?" He'd had his last one that morning.

"Spare, no," Cal scoffed as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack. "But you can have one anyway." He pulled out two, handing one over before lighting his own. "I'll be out in a couple of days."

Tore sighed. This was _not _something he could expect to see showing up on a supply truck; at least, not as an official supply from the government. Occasionally enterprising truck drivers picked up some on their own dime and sold them at a profit. Tore had to admit, it was a pretty smart bit of side business. "Thanks." He lit it and took a puff. "That was something else."

"Toughest fight we've had yet," Cal nodded. "Let's hope they don't have any more of those guys."

"I'm with you," Tore agreed. "I liked their one-trick idiots a lot better."

"Yeah," Cal snickered. "Too bad we wiped them all out."

* * *

"Just another minute," the doctor's voice came from down by Ed's leg port. Lying on the hospital bed in the surgery wing, Ed just wished the doc would hurry and get it over with. "This would be a lot easier if we could have used painkillers."

"Don't I know it," Ed grumbled through clenched teeth. Out here all they'd had available at the moment was the traditional stuff. He couldn't have that. He couldn't drink himself numb either. "Just keep…going. The original surgery didn't have painkillers either."

"Oh really?" Was it a bad thing when a doctor sounded surprised?

"Long time ago," Ed pointed out. He had already suffered through the examination of his nose, which had stopped bleeding and seemed to be fine, and the bandaging of the gash on his forehead above his left eye that, it turned out, had required four stitches to hold it closed.

"That's true." The doctor – he couldn't be more than thirty – just nodded matter-of-factly. Ed decided not to be insulted. "The good news is that the port seems completely intact and there isn't any major nerve damage, though the ends are going to be raw for a while."

Ed winced again as the doctor finished the protective bandaging job on his leg. Having the limb rather ripped out of its socket, he was lucky the nerves hadn't been damaged severely. "Let me know when I can pass out again."

"Later," the doctor quipped. "You had a nice little nap earlier."

Not that Ed would have called the rough half hour he had been unconscious while he was carried to the infirmary tent and laid out on a bed a _nice little nap. _"Well I wouldn't mind a nice little meal to go with it," he commented, focusing on anything other than the pain.

"Soon," the doctor promised as he stood up. "There that's finished." He came forward and Ed could see his face; tanned, with dark hair and a short goatee. "The leg should be fine for attaching new auto-mail, but we don't have a replacement here that will work with your port. I'm afraid we're going to have to ship you back to North City for a proper fitting and replacement."

"I'm not sure if that's a blessing or a death sentence, doc," Ed chuckled, trying not to move his leg. "Winry's going to kill me, having to completely replace that piece."

"Your mechanic." It wasn't a question.

"And my wife," Ed added. Somehow, there were still people who didn't put those two facts – and one woman – together.

The doctor's eyes lit up with understanding. "Ah, yeah. I can see how that might make this interesting. Well, we'll have you in a truck in the morning and on the train within three days. If anyone asks you're on leave by my orders until your leg is repaired and you're fit for combat."

Ed decided he liked this guy. "Sounds good to me." He closed his eyes and relaxed. The throbbing in his leg and head was less now that he wasn't being messed with and could hold still. It would take a couple of days to reach the train, and more to get to North City. With the same travel time back, plus the time it would take to replace the leg that was at least two and a half weeks of _leave. _Not that it would be all that relaxing, but it would be better than sleeping in his frigid tent and eating glop every meal. He opened his eyes briefly as he replied. "Maybe I'll finally get a chance to warm up."

"We'd all like that," the doctor replied with a slightly envious grin. "Take it easy while you can. I could list plenty of other grievances about your current state of health, but I suspect you already know what they are."

In other words, reasons why Ed really needed some rest, relaxation, and a few good meals. Ed could certainly list those off himself. The nagging cold that refused to go away; the nausea that came with his aching ports. "Yeah, I do." It wasn't worth arguing with a doctor about them either. Ed wouldn't admit it out loud, but it was a relief to have the excuse to get away from battle for a while. To go see Winry, even if she was probably going to thrash him for destroying one of her better pieces… again. He tried to write, but lately there hadn't been much time. Now, there wouldn't be time to get a letter off ahead of his coming anyway.

"Good," the doctor chuckled, wiping his hands on a towel. "I'm Doctor Ganns by the way."

"Well, you do good work," Ed complimented. "You ever worked with auto-mail before?"

Ganns shook his head. His thick, short-cropped dark hair ruffled slightly in the breeze made by the movement. "Never had the opportunity. A few of my patients have had auto-mail of course, but I've never had to do any kind of first aid with it before."

"Not bad for a first time then," Ed said. "I've certainly had rougher treatment." Better too, but then no one's hands compared to Winry when it came to handling auto-mail, or the person it was going onto. There was a reason she was a favorite engineer personally for a lot of people, not just for her designs.

"An unpleasant thought, considering," Ganns replied. "Get some rest. I'll go see about getting some food sent in. I expect, when you're up for it, there are a few folks who would like to check in on you, officially and otherwise. There've been at least four other alchemists who have stopped by to check on you already."  
_  
Nice to be liked._ "Sure, that's fine. I'm sure the General will want a report from me even if I'm blearily incoherent."

"You want to fake it?" Ganns asked. "I can tell him you're on hallucinogenic painkillers or something."

"You willing to lie for a patient, doc?" Ed asked, fairly certain Ganns was actually joking.

"Depends," Ganns shrugged. "But no, not to a superior officer. Besides, I don't think you could act well in your current state."

Sadly, he was right. Ed nodded ever so slightly and closed his eyes again. "You're right. For now, just tell them I'm asleep and they can talk to me when I've rested and eaten." Maybe then he would feel a little more human again.

Ganns chortled. "That was my thought exactly."


	21. Chapter 21

**December 27****th****, 1963**

The long trip back to North City was wearying and restful at the same time; an odd dichotomy that Edward did not try to contemplate too heavily. He was declared fit for travel within a day of his injuries, given they were actually not all that severe. He was tired more than anything else, and relatively immobilized by the lack of one leg. Because of how the previous one had been ripped off, Doctor Ganns decided against putting in any kind of temporary prosthetic without an experienced auto-mail technician immediately available for consultation.

So Ed was bundled into a truck with a driver and an escorting nurse – unfortunately forty-years old, homely, and male – and driven back down to Larendon, where he was put on the train for North City. The train portion of the trip was more comfortable than the truck; less bouncy, and he had a berth with a bed to sleep in. Given the option of a heated space and a real bed with pillow – however utilitarian – he slept a good portion of the trip, and enjoyed the food available, though he was cautious given his stomach was still rebellious, and he was more nauseated than usual from the knocks to the head, despite being warmer.

By the time the train arrived in North City, Ed felt decent physically. The only real downside to all that time was being focused enough to think, and thinking was dangerous. As soon as he felt well enough to be coherent and alert for hours at a time Ed found himself going over the battle – and what he had been told otherwise – in detail. He analyzed the techniques they had employed; what had worked and what hadn't. He thought about what Tore and Lyssandra and Fletcher had told him later about finding the group of alchemists firing off the flaming javelins and capturing one and killing the other three. The fourth had surely been interrogated in depth by now, but Ed had missed it. He hoped Breda and Kane got that report while he was in North City, if they hadn't already. Ed wanted to know what new information it might hold that would be helpful.

Worst though, was the distinct and painful memory of watching Torv get skewered, the life draining out of him as he died. That haunted him in his sleep, more immediately than the other deaths Ed had witnessed personally, or remembered hearing about. He didn't try and stop from thinking about it either. The dead deserved to be remembered. Ed would not forget the Earthshaker Alchemist's work, his talent, or who he had been as a person. Neither, likely, would anyone else who had known him. The rest of the world might not care, but Ed refused to think of the alchemists as just a group. They were people, friends, and colleagues. He had helped make them who they were and also part of the reason and impetus that had brought them to this point in their lives. He didn't feel guilty that they died; but he did feel some responsibility.

It was depressing, and the weight of it came upon him now, in the quiet, the way it didn't when he was constantly busy, constantly working, focused on the war and on living through each day.

Ed had been given crutches to use for getting himself around on his own, and he made it down off the train unassisted, though his assigned nurse insisted on carrying his bag to the hospital building that was still being used as the primary military medical facility in the city. That was fine with Ed. That was where Winry and Ethan were working out of anyway, so that was where he needed to report in for his repairs anyway.

On top of his concerns and memories of dead compatriots, a dread began to fill Ed as he hobbled the few blocks to the hospital. Winry was going to be furious with him for this! If there was anything he could count on better than clockwork, it was that Winry would accuse him of being reckless and getting her work destroyed needlessly. _Admittedly, running around behind enemy lines on a battlefront probably should count as reckless. _

"I'm going to report in," the nurse – his name was Vlad – said. "Will you be all right?"

"I think I can get by on my own for fifty feet or so," Ed replied wryly. He didn't want to mention how tired he was. Hobbling around on crutches was more tiresome than he wanted to admit. _Okay, so maybe I do miss being twenty… or thirty… or forty. _Ed turned and hobbled down the hallway. _Time to get the shouting over with. _Still, it was going to be good to see Winry again.

* * *

Winry had her face buried in the inner workings of an auto-mail arm when she heard the sound of clunking behind her that sounded like someone on crutches. _A new repair for me no doubt. _Otherwise they usually didn't show up in the auto-mail shop corner of the little two-story hospital the military had completely taken over. "I'll be just a moment," she said waving one hand in the air to let whoever it was know that she had noticed their presence.

"No hurry," a hauntingly familiar voice commented. "I can wait."

Winry sat bolt upright and nearly smacked her head into the machinery. "Edward?" She turned around and stared. Standing in the doorway – yes, on crutches – looking haggard and banged up, was the most familiar face in Amestris. "I didn't know you were coming."

Ed winced and looked uneasy. "Yeah. Well there wasn't much time to send a note ahead of when they dumped me in a car. I ah… need a replacement leg."

Not a repair job; a full replacement. Winry's eyes went immediately to Ed's left leg, to find that the pant leg was tied off just below the stump of the port. There wasn't even a temporary fake to stand on. _What happened to you? _Obviously a lot, given the bandage on his forehead, a couple on other spots on his face, and he had a couple of weeks of beard growth. Given the cold around here though, she had gotten used to the fact that the soldiers shaved as little as possible as a matter of warmth! On Ed, two weeks was just scruffy. Beneath it all, he looked exhausted.

Winry dropped the wrench in her hand as she stood and crossed the room. Her arms wrapped around his chest and she hugged him tightly. "Oh, Ed… are you all right?" He stiffened under her hands, though it only lasted a moment. Winry looked up at him. "Did I do something wrong?" He wasn't usually so hesitant.

He looked bemused. "I… was expecting a more violent welcome."

He had been expecting a wrench to the head he meant. Winry sighed, then smiled and kissed his fuzzy cheek, hugging him again. "I'm not mad at you about the auto-mail," she replied quietly. "Auto-mail I can replace. I can't replace _you_."

That seemed to be what he needed, because Winry heard one of the crutches hit the floor as one arm wrapped around her tightly, clutching her almost frantically against his chest. "Oh, Winry…" he gasped quietly into her hair. "I've missed you so much." His voice hitched near the end.

Whatever had happened, it had been a lot the last few months. The last time Winry had seen him, Edward had been positive, romantic, and surprisingly happy. Now he seemed desperately searching for something; an escape. He was beaten down.

Winry stroked his back with her hands, supporting him so he wouldn't fall on one leg. "It's all right," she whispered. "I've missed you too." He would tell her everything with time. She didn't press. "I can get off soon. We can go back to the room and you can rest."

Ed straightened up and the look in his eyes was anything but restful. "The room is good but I… I need you first."

Even like this… Winry smiled gently. "Whatever you need, Ed."

"I'm sorry," he looked a little embarrassed even as his hand grasped her. "I just need to..feel… alive. All I've seen lately is death, or dealing with it. I lost Lordes and…Skald. We've lost so many others." He gripped her tighter, than leaned into her again. "I need you."

Winry understood now. "Then you'll have me," she promised. "Let's get a look at you first though all right?" She looked up apologetically. "If I'm going to build you a new leg that is. How long do you have?"

Ed smiled for the first time since his arrival. "Doc Ganns said as long as it takes for me to be combat ready. What's your professional opinion?"

Winry smiled back. "That it will take at _least_ four days to build you something suitable, possibly longer to make sure it, and you, are in condition to return to duty." All right, so it was an excuse to keep him here, with her, safe, and to make sure he rested, and got some food in him! Under her arms he felt lean; hard, but thinner again.

Aside from the banged up face, he sounded congested too. But then, she was suspicious that the doctor's orders were so that he would have the time he needed. _I must remember to thank this one later. He knows how to handle Ed. _

"You won't hear me arguing," Ed replied. "I don't suppose you've got a spare I can hobble around on till then? Ganns isn't an auto-mail expert and he didn't want to try anything. The leg was… ripped out."

Winry winced. _Ripped? _That must have been painful! "Was there nerve damage?" That could complicate things.

"He says no," Ed assured her immediately. "It hurt like hell the first few days, but they feel pretty normal now. It was painful but… better than the alternative."

"What did it?" Anything that could rip off an auto-mail leg meant _lethal_ in her experience.

Ed hesitated, clearly not wanting to tell her, but he did anyway. "A weapon the Drachmans worked out; metal spears covered in some kind of alchemical fire. One speared my leg while I was retreating."

"At least you had the good sense to retreat," Winry resisted the urge to clutch him tightly again. They would have time alone, in a more private setting. She wasn't the only one working auto-mail after all. "Let me have a look at your arm and leg and then we'll get out of here, all right?"

Ed nodded unenthusiastically and hobbled to one of the benches, where he hopped up and sat so she could take a look at both pieces. "The arm's holding up fine," he commented. "Surprisingly well considering the lighter materials."

"It's one of mine," Winry winked as she watched him take off his coat and uniform jacket and shirt while she untied the pant leg to get a look at the port. It only took a minute to determine that the port was, currently, closed off as it should be and, when she opened it briefly, that the nerves were protected and clean and healthy.

"That looks fine," she said, moving to the work counter and contemplating the temporary legs hanging on the wall. They were just jointed crutches in their own way, but it gave him something to rest his weight on, and it didn't connect to the nerves directly. She pulled one down the right length and returned, affixing it to the port. When she finished she rolled the pant leg down to cover the prosthetic.

"Thanks," Ed said as she moved to look at his arm, which he had laid out on the table next to the bench already. It was a sign of his exhaustion that he wasn't arguing more.

Winry made it a quick examination. She could do repairs later. Really all it needed was some minor tuning, and a good cleaning. Both could wait until he had rested. "That should do it for now," she said as she screwed the cover piece back on after a few minutes. "I'll work on it later."

"You're being awfully kind."

Winry looked up and caught him grinning. A good sign! She chuckled. "I'm always kind, Ed." She picked up his shirt to help him put it back on. "But I have to admit," she whispered in his ear. "You're one of my favorite patients."

"Oh really?" He glanced over his shoulder as he buttoned the shirt. "And why's that?"

Winry kissed his ear before reaching for his jacket. "Because you're the one I get to make love to… and about a million other reasons."

Ed caught her hand as she settled the jacket on his shoulders. "I'd like to hear those sometime. I hope though, that the main one is because I love you."

Winry felt warm inside. She didn't resist the urge to hug him once more, gently around the neck from behind. "That will always be reason number one."

**December 28****th****, 1963**

They made love that night despite Edward's exhaustion. Not that it lasted as long as he wanted, or it might have normally. He didn't have the energy he'd had even a few months ago, but as he'd told Winry he _needed _her. He needed to feel alive, and loved, and to forget for a while about the death and loss that awaited him every day online in his reality. He needed to remember the rest of the world; what he was fighting for in the first place.

It was a late night, and they cuddled until he fell asleep. Ed passed out first, feeling the most at home he had in too long, Winry's soft, strong arms around him. His nose buried in her hair. When he slowly dragged up out of sleep the next morning, their position hadn't even changed, though Winry was awake, smiling at him. "What?" He asked blearily.

"Nothing," she kissed his nose. "I was just watching you sleep." Her expression turned regretful. "I don't have today off. I need to go in for a while, but we can have breakfast first."

"I'd like that." Nothing would be more pleasant than sharing a meal with Winry. Okay, most things would not be more pleasant; there were notable exceptions. He was also looking forward to a long, hot soak in the tub that was a fortunate part of his getting a better room than some.

"Good," Winry replied. "Because you look half-starved. I thought alchemists were supposed to get half-again on the rations."

"We do," Ed assured her. He was going to have to tell her. "It's just not all staying down."

Winry opened her mouth to ask why, but he saw the understanding dawn almost at once. "Your ports are bothering you."

Ed nodded. "This is the warmest, and driest, I've been since September."

"How often have you been throwing up?" Winry's expression had turned stern.

"Just once every day or two," Ed admitted, though it sounded more impressive than it seemed. The time between each seemed so much longer on the front. So much happened in a day. "Usually in the morning."

"Which means you're losing at least a quarter of your needed nutrition," Winry shook her head. "No wonder you're so thin." She sat up. "I guess I'll have to make sure to get us a big breakfast then. You're feeling better now?"

Ed nodded. After the last few days of comfortable travel, the aches were no more than they were at home this time of year; dull, and not particularly nauseating. "Much."

While Winry went out and fetched breakfast, Ed took the opportunity to take a good long hot soak in the tub. It was a luxury after weeks of essentially sponge-bathing to keep from freezing. Ed washed and conditioned his hair thoroughly, and gave himself a good scrubbing – twice – when the first bathwater started to turn slightly murky. He had done his best to stay clean out there, but there was only so much he could really do when staying dry was an important part of survival. He missed civilization.

He also went ahead and took the luxury of shaving. When he was done, he no longer looked like a vagabond old man. _Sorry, Dad. I still don't like looking anything like you. _Though truth be told, he looked older than his father with it now. His dad's body had never aged this far.

Ed had left most of his clean civvies with Winry. He hadn't needed them to the West. So he was glad to drag on warm sweats and a t-shirt, covered by a long-sleeved red and black flannel for warmth, and thick woolen socks.

When Winry returned, her first reaction was a delighted smile. "Now that's much better," she teased as she laid out a large breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, toast with plum jam and butter, cinnamon muffins, orange juice, and coffee with cream and sugar. There wasn't a warm gloppy grain-based cereal in sight, and it all smelled like it had real flavors.

"I'm in heaven," Ed gasped as he took the larger of the two plates – heaped high enough for two people by itself and obviously meant for him! "This is…fantastic," he mumbled around the first mouthful of eggs and sausage.

"Now I know you've been starved if you think military cooking is good," Winry chuckled. "I did remember in a letter you complaining about the oatmeal, so I didn't bother."

"I knew I loved you for a reason," Ed teased, continuing to eat. It had been so long since he felt this good, and his hunger came back with a vengeance! It only took a few minutes before he had completely cleaned the plate. It was all he could do to resist licking off the sausage grease. He still had _some _manners. He also drank two glasses of juice before he leaned back against the headboard of the bed, sipping a cup of coffee. Not mess-sludge, but _real_ coffee. It even had a hint of hazelnut. "Okay, this is _not _military standard coffee, where did you get this?"

"The hospital kitchen was left stocked when they abandoned the building," Winry admitted. "The doctors and auto-mail mechanics have access to some of the supplies and that includes much better coffee. I thought you'd prefer that one."

That was it; he had definitely married an angel. Ed smiled, and sipped again appreciatively. He tried to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably. With a full stomach; warm and clean, with the thick mattress underneath him, it was tempting to just go back to sleep. "I do, thanks. How much longer before you have to go?"

"I should have already left," Winry admitted. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll see how early I can get off, but I'll probably be gone for a while. You stay here and take it easy okay? If you get bored there are a couple of paperbacks in my purse."

"Bored or desperate," Ed teased. "Thanks, Winry."

"You're welcome." Her hand lingered a moment on his before she stood reluctantly. "I'll see you later."

Ed fully intended to read a book, or maybe try a very light workout – stretches mostly – to work out the kinks. That was his intention, but by the time he set down the empty coffee cup he was already starting to doze off. He took the hint. A morning nap was probably a good idea.

* * *

Ed did not awaken again until he heard knocking on the door. "Who is it?" he asked blearily. Slowly he opened his eyes and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was noon already.

The door opened and a grinning and familiar face came through first, followed by the rest of his son carrying a large covered tray. "It's me," Ethan commented as he stepped in and kicked the door shut with one foot behind him. "Mom thought you might be hungry again by now and I wanted to say hi."

Ed couldn't help grinning. It was good to see a smiling face, especially Ethan's! He noticed that his son was also wearing the knitted gloves and scarf Lia had made for him back in college. "Well it's good to see you too," he replied. "And, as usual, your mother is right." Even though the last thing he had done today before falling asleep was eat, he was definitely starting to feel hungry again. "What's for lunch?"

Lunch turned out to be two huge turkey club sandwiches with all the fixings, pickles, chips, an orange soda, and a couple of chocolate chip cookies. There were also Ethan's own additions to the tray; a bottle of vitamins and a vial that Ed suspected held Ethan's Ed-approved painkiller.

"You don't expect me to take those do you?" Ed asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

"The vitamins are not optional," Ethan smirked. "Mom said you'd been having issues from your ports. If you're losing meals you're losing nutrients. Take one a day, even after you get back out on the front. There's enough there to last you at least two months."

There were worse things to take. "And that?"

"If you're in enough pain that you're that bad off, you _need_ to treat it, Dad," Ethan replied, his expression more firm. "Not all the time, but on really bad days, take a dose. You shouldn't _be_ in that much pain. I'll make sure to send some back when you go and tell Ganns it's just for you specifically, or other auto-mail patients having serious weather-related complications."

"What about you?" Ed asked. "How've you been doing?"

"Wearing my gloves," Ethan snickered, holding up one black-sheathed hand. "My hand aches a little most days, but not enough to make me sick."

"That's good." Ed was relieved to hear it. He worried about his son's health, and not without reason, but right now Ethan looked healthier than he was; meaning much better considering! "Have you heard from Lia recently?"

"Just a few days ago," Ethan nodded, his expression brightening immediately. "She wrote me another five page letter about everything she's been up to, and the family. You can read the first four later if you want."

"What about page five?" Ed enjoyed watching his son's ears turn slightly pink.

"Lia likes to leave the private stuff for the last page, so I can share the rest with family," he admitted.

Ed had received a few letters like that in his life… from Winry of course. He'd written a few too. "I know how that goes," he grinned. "Sure, I'd love to hear what's been going on. I get almost nothing lately." Not that it was anyone's fault. They were all busy after all, and the people most likely to write him were on the front, working hard. "Have you seen Sara recently?"

"A few weeks ago," Ethan said. "The alchemists assigned to the area are through here every little while to get patched up or on a day of leave if they've got the time. Sara always comes back if she can make it."

Of course she would. Franz was still stationed in North City. "So she's not been badly injured recently." Kane would have told him, but it was nice to verify.

"Nothing serious," Ethan shook his head. "She's never out of action for more than a few days if that."

That was his girl. "And Aldon?"

"Unhurt so far," Ethan smiled. "He might be through here in the next few days. I think he's got leave coming up soon."

That would be nice. Ed would be glad to see any of his children that he could up here. Seeing them with his own eyes was the best way to assuage his worries. Sometimes written reports just weren't good enough. They chatted until Ethan needed to get back for his next shift in the hospital.

"So, do you need this now?" Ethan asked, gesturing to the vial as he stood up with the tray.

Ed shook his head. "No, I feel pretty good right now."

"You're not just saying that."

"No, I mean it," Ed promised. "Geez, you nag worse than your mother."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Ethan grinned. "I've been dubbed the official _nag_ by General Breda. I've been checking in on anyone I can. It's amazing how you guys don't fall apart every time you're out of Central."

"Who says we don't?" Ed pointed out good-naturedly.

Ethan nodded. "You have a point."

* * *

It took all of Winry's patience to work through the entire day, but as soon as she left Edward in the morning she was inundated with work. On top of needing to build him a new leg almost entirely from scratch, she was asked to assist in two surgeries – only one auto-mail related – had four patients in need of minor repairs, and the news that three more were being trucked in from the front for emergency repairs, none of which would take more than an hour, but that still took three more hours out of her day. She had been grateful when Ethan offered to take Ed lunch, and even more so when he brought her some on the return trip! So she pushed through, and was finally finished about half an hour after she normally ate dinner.

Tired, cold, and eager to check on Ed, she hurried straight back to the hotel-turned-officer's-barracks room. When she opened the door, she stopped, staring.

In the middle of the room was a small table, complete with a vase of flowers – red and white roses - and long, drippy candles. Soft music came from an old radio in the corner, and the only thing that seemed out-of-place from a nice restaurant was the fact that Ed was standing beside it, leaning a little on one of the chairs, in casual clothes. He was smiling though. "So, what do you think, Winry?"

"It's… wonderful," she smiled back, amazed. "How did you manage to do all this?"

"We have a son who doesn't mind doing the footwork for the old man," Ed winked, hobbling forward.

She met him half way in a hug and a kiss. "What's the occasion?"

"Us," Ed winked as he kissed her again. "And the fact that it's almost a new year."

That was true! Tomorrow was the start of the New Year. With all her work and the constant chaos, she found it far too easy to lose track of the day of the week, let alone the exact date. "How sweet. You didn't invite Ethan to the festivities?" She noticed only two covered plates of food.

"I offered actually," Ed admitted. "He said he had some plans with a couple of friends if he got off his shift before midnight. It looks like it's just you and me tonight."

"Are you complaining?" Winry teased as they turned towards the table. As much as she would have loved to have had _all_ of her children here tonight, she would be grateful for the opportunity to have Edward at all, and to herself, when barely a day ago she had no idea if she would ever see him alive again. Tonight, they had each other. She paused and looked at the wine-style bottle on the table; sparkling apple cider. _Ethan really is good at finding what he needs._

"Of course I'm not complaining," Ed smiled as he insisted on pulling out a chair for her. "I'm glad you like it. I would have done more myself, but I napped until Ethan showed up, and passed out again for another couple of hours this afternoon." He looked a little embarrassed as he sat down across from her.

"Good," Winry smiled. He obviously needed the sleep. Curious, she uncovered her plate. Dinner turned out to be simple, but tasty; beef in a burgundy sauce with steamed vegetables. There was even a baked custard dessert. "This looks great."

"Ethan said there's at least one decent restaurant in town that's open. It doesn't get much business, but the owner refuses to leave," Ed explained as he picked up silverware and started eating. "So he made a pick-up request for me."

"Well I may have to see that they get a little more business," Winry smiled as she took a bite of the vegetables. It wasn't the fanciest cuisine she had ever had, but it was tasty. Compared to eating what the military supplied the medical staff for free, it was fine dining! "Most of us in the hospital are getting a little tired of military cooking."

"Tired of the grease?" Ed asked with a knowing grin.

"Some of us like greens," Winry confirmed. "There's nothing wrong with eating healthy food, and it's not like we're the ones running around out there all day."

"Thank goodness." Ed's expression softened. His gaze lingered until he seemed to realize he was just staring. He started, then reached out and took the bottle of sparkling cider. Ed opened it and filled the two cups he had also dug up from somewhere. He slid one across the table and held his up in a toast. "To our family's continued health and safety…and to you, for keeping me going all this time by knowing what I need, whether it's food, love, or a good smack in the head."

Winry felt a tear in the corner of her eye. She held up her own cup. The chipped blue mug could have been fine crystal in that moment. It was just as grand as far as she was concerned. "To our family's continued health and safety… and to _you_, for giving me love, purpose, and support."

They both knew what to say next. "I love you."

* * *

Tore was whistling as he sidled up to Cal in front of the bonfire going in the large empty space in the middle of one of the circles of tents. The night was cold, but for once it wasn't snowing and the ground around the fire had thawed to the point where it was half dry instead of nothing but muck. Yet it wasn't the fire that made everyone feel more cheerful, but the celebration going on tonight of a rather solid victory that morning and the holiday itself. Despite the blow to the alchemists several days before, the Amestrians had continued to push the Drachmans back, and they were retreating at a greater pace. So the last few days had involved more marching than anything else to keep up until that morning, when they had soundly tromped the Drachman line when the enemy made a hasty attempt to dig into a new location and make a stand.

They were winning! At least on this front. That was cause enough for celebration. It made the outlook for the coming year better too.

"Hey buddy," Tore grinned at Cal, who was hanging out with a couple of the other State Alchemists, though they were well into the mix of regular soldiers – Amestrian and Cretan alike. Anyone who had been able to find some had a drink, or was passing it around to share a few sips with their buddies nearby. Tore hoped to get a sip off at least one of them sometime. But for now, he flipped open a pocket and dropped his catch of the day in Cal's open hand. "Paying you back."

Cal looked down at the pack of cigarettes and chuckled. "Where'd you score these?"

"One of the Cretan supply trucks," Tore said. "Now if he'd had some booze left over we'd be set."

"Someone say booze?" Finn asked with a slightly goofy grin as he sauntered over. Tore liked the other alchemist. He was between Tore and Cal in age, but he fit well in their band of friends. So had his buddy Lordes until his unfortunate death. Since then, Tore had to admit he worried about Finn sometimes. The other alchemist seemed okay, but he was a little more reckless.

"Yeah, what of it?" Tore asked.

Finn held up a couple of good sized bottles and beamed. "What's a celebration without quality libation? My old man sent me a present."

Cal's eyes lit up. "The good stuff, huh?"

"Only the best," Finn nodded. "Here you go fellas." He handed one bottle to Cal. "Sorry to say you'll have to split, but enjoy!"

"Oh we will," Cal nodded, taking hold of the bottle. "Thanks, Finn!"

"Think nothin' of it," Finn waved off the thanks. "Just celebrate!"

"What is it?" Tore asked curiously. He didn't recognize the label on the bottle.

"Finn's father makes his own brews," Cal explained. "They're always hard, and they're always deliciously smooth. He's got some amazing combinations of flavor. Here," he popped open the bottle and took a swig. Tore watched as he closed his eyes, then shuddered slightly and opened them again. "Now that's just what I needed tonight. Try it."

Tore took the offered bottle and, feeling emboldened, tilted it up and took down a good swig. It was like drinking a mix of liquid caramel, cream, and whisky. It was smooth going down, but it had a nice warming kick at the end of the trip. "Oh I could get used to that."

"Don't," Cal snickered, taking the bottle back for another drink. "You'll miss it too much when it's gone."

Tore grinned. "So, then we'll have to hope Finn's _generous_ father sends more."

"Never pegged you for an optimist," Cal laughed.

"Thought I might give it a try this year," Tore took the bottle back. "Who knows, maybe it'll work." Given how this year had gone so far, he could use a little optimism. Besides, the tide was turning. "I bet we'll have this war in the bag before tonight a year from now."

"I'll take that bet," Cal replied after a moment. "What's the stakes?"

Tore had to think about that one. "Oh, I know! Winner owes the loser one favor to be cashed in anytime, no questions asked and no argument."

"Wait…any favor?" Cal looked skeptical. "Like _take your date without argument_ no questions asked?"

"Hadn't thought of that," Tore admitted. "But I like it! So what do you say? You confident enough to stake a favor on it?"

Cal took the bottle, took a long drink, and nodded. "This war… yeah, I'll take that bet."

"Done," Tore took Cal's hand and shook it.

"Done," Cal nodded seriously, though the expression was spoiled by a snicker. "C'mon, let's finish this bottle before someone else wants to share."

Tore followed him closer to the fire as the night drew closer to midnight. It wasn't where he would have chosen to spend a New Year's celebration, and nothing like the parties held in Central, but he was surrounded by comrades, good cheer, and hope. He felt his confidence grow. This year, the war would end. He refused to believe otherwise.


	22. Chapter 22

**February 14****th****, 1964**

"Got a romantic rendezvous with your sweetie, soldier?"

Will turned around and grinned shamelessly at the middle-aged guy standing beside him on the train platform. He would have preferred to be in civvies for this, but all he'd had was military attire when he'd gotten notice that his unit was getting a week of leave. The first thing he had done was call Ren and let her know. They had agreed to meet up in a town halfway between North City and Central. With three days advanced warning, Will had been able to arrange to get there, and he would have four whole days with Ren and the kids before he had to go back.

He supposed the bottle of wine and bouquet of flowers were pretty dead giveaways. Though from the look in his eye, the man was clearly expecting a more torrid romance. Will grinned. "Sure do. They should be here on the next train."

Then man was, as Will hoped, caught off guard. "They?"

Will laughed, unable to keep up the charade. "My wife and children."

Understanding and a little relief dawned in the man's eyes. "I see. Well then it really is a special trip."

Will nodded. To the south, he heard the distant sounds of an approaching train. "It is." He strained to see it. He had arrived two hours ahead of them and booked a two-room suite. That way he and Ren could have a little privacy without being separated from the children.

"Well, enjoy yourself," the man nodded a little more respectfully than his earlier comment had implied, and moved on down the platform.

A minute later, the train appeared and Will couldn't take his eyes from it as it drew closer and eventually pulled to a stop in front of him. His heart pumped harder in anticipation. He hadn't seen Ren in nearly a year! Pictures were all he had of her, of Minxia, and the ones he had gotten recently of Michio. His son was three months old and Will had never held him. Today, he would remedy that.

"Daddy!" The eager screech made him turn in time to be nearly tackled off his feet by his eager daughter! "Daddy it's you!" She wrapped her arms around his legs.

Will's throat tightened as he reached down with his arms and detached Minxia from his legs, hefting her up in the air in front of him. He grinned broadly. "Drat. You've grown again, Minx!"

"Yep!" She beamed proudly. "I'm a whole three inches bigger!"

"That you are." Will pulled her close in a big bear hug. Behind her he could see Ren just behind her by a few steps now, cradling a well-blanketed bundle in her arms. A porter had two suitcases. Will smiled. He was not going to cry. Not in public anyway. "Hello, beautiful."

Ren smiled back and closed the distance. In moments the hug included the entire family. When Will finally loosened his grip, he couldn't help staring a little into the face of the baby boy in Ren's arms. Light skinned, the boy had a thin down of dark reddish-brown hair on his head and rich, dark eyes with golden flecks. If they had ever been blue it hadn't lasted long.

"He's perfect," Will breathed.

"He's Mich!" Minxia giggled. "You should hold him, Daddy! He wants to meet you."

"Of course he does," Ren agreed, smiling confidently as she held the bundle out. "Go ahead, Will." It was as if she knew that finally meeting their boy was one of the moments he had been looking forward to most on this trip.

Will ignored the people around them as he gathered up his son. The boy blinked up at him for several seconds.

"Hey there, Mich," Will finally said softly. "I know you have no idea who I am yet. I'm Daddy. I've been pretty busy doing something important, but I promise, I'll be home as soon as I can."

Michio blinked again, and burped.

Ren chuckled. "He's quite the conversationalist, isn't he?"

"He's great," Will chuckled, relaxing. They were here, they were real, and his son didn't hate him on sight. "Why don't we all go to the hotel and relax? How was the trip?"

"It was amazing!" Minxia chimed in before Ren could even open her mouth to reply. "We went so fast! And there were towns, and cars, and fields, and cows, and all sorts of things!" She kept babbling as they headed out of the station. Will took the suitcases from the porter. Those with his duffel on his shoulder were less of a burden then they would have been a year ago.

"Does she ever stop?" Will asked Ren when Minxia was still babbling excitedly when they reached the hotel.

"To eat and sleep," Ren smiled patiently. "What's wrong, Will? Not used to the chatter?"

She was teasing him he realized. "No," he admitted with a small shake of his head. "It's just mind-blowing how much she's grown. And this little guy," he nodded to Michio, back in his mother's arms. "The last time I saw you I was still getting used to the fact we were having another one, and he's here and he's already grown enough he doesn't have that _new_ look. And you don't even look like you were pregnant."

Ren blushed slightly, her smile growing. "Flatterer. Has the war made you blind?"

"No, just starved for a little female attention," Will admitted with a grin, "And time with my family."

Ren nodded, as if that was exactly the answer she expected. "Well then, I'm sure that while we're all together we can arrange plenty of both."

**

* * *

**

"So how many did you take out today, True Soul?"

Alphonse shrugged modestly at Felix Tringham's question. "Four chimeras and two DAs, but they weren't very good." He could have beaten the two he had taken on in a two-on-one alchemical fight back when he was little more than a kid, armor or otherwise. Still, he couldn't help but feel good at the progress they were making, and the part he had played in today's victory.

Felix gave an impressed whistle. "That's better than I did. One chimera that looked like it was half chicken and I spent the rest of it trying to chase down one of their guys who gave up on alchemy and ran!"

"That's all right," Al smiled as they walked back to base camp. "You'll get another shot at them." Slowly they were pushing the Drachmans back. Not with the speed reported from the Western front, but definitely faster than the Central. The tactics that seemed to work best for the Eastern division were sneaky, diversionary, and relied heavily on brains and on the use of the alchemists. As they pushed the Drachmans further up through the winding mountain passes, it was harder and harder for the two armies to clash in shoot matches. They couldn't form proper firing lines, and so it turned into alchemist versus alchemist more and more often as the Drachmans tried to retreat and find a new route through the mountains without giving up too much ground.

"If there are any left when we're through with them," Roy snickered as he limped up and fell into step beside Al. "That was some impressive work you've been doing lately, Al. I didn't realize how much damage you could do with wind and dust."

"It doesn't have to be flashy to be effective," Al replied, a little surprised by the compliment. Roy wasn't one for flattering others, though he enjoyed receiving it himself.

"Maybe not, but I like a little flare," Roy countered. "You know, we ought to give the pillar of fire another run sometime soon. Think of the damage we could do if it went right up the trail?"

That would be something all right. Al couldn't see how the Drachmans could get out of the way. The only major limiting factor was the limited distance the pillar could move from the alchemists controlling it before it lost potency and dwindled. "It would probably take out at least a few hundred soldiers," he nodded thoughtfully. "If we're lucky, we could time it to hit when the alchemists are at the forefront." The DAs and their chimeras was his preferred target. He was sick of alchemists committing atrocities of nature in the name of their own ambitions.

"Good point," Roy agreed. "You should bring it up at the debriefing. If we can time it right and get in position, we can hit them without any of our soldiers getting in the way."

"If we're lucky." The chances of that were slim. The closer they got, the more likely it was someone was going to get caught in friendly fire. In this case, literally. "More likely we'll be lucky to only catch a few of them." Getting close to the front was tricky enough. It was hard to strike strategically enough not to hit their own men in such limited space and with small opportunities. "It could be worse I suppose."

"It could," Roy replied with a nod, though Al thought he gave him an odd look before continuing. "Well, we'll see what we can do to minimize risks."

"Oh sure," Al agreed. It was only reasonable after all. It didn't do them any good if they killed too many of their own men in the process.

"Glad you agree." Was that another off look from Roy?

Al decided not to worry about it. "Any reason why I shouldn't?"

"No, of course not," Roy shrugged. He smiled. "Come on; let's get this meeting over with. I'm ready for a rest."

"Is that what you call the noises I hear coming from your tent at night?" Al couldn't resist the jibe. In reality, he almost never heard a thing. If he did, it was discretely quiet enough it might as well have been two rabbits in a hole half a mile away.

Felix nearly choked on a laugh, which he tried manfully to silence!

Roy was unfazed. "Of course it is, True Soul. Obviously your ears are going."

"Funny," Al quipped. "From the sounds of it, I would have said it was your knees."

**

* * *

**

That afternoon was the therapy Will had known he needed. As much as he would not have minded whisking Ren off to the bedroom right then and there, a meal and afternoon with the whole family was an absolute delight. He had forgotten what it felt like to walk through a park, push Minxia on a swing, and get ice cream on his nose eating a three-dip cone. He didn't even care that it was chilly outside. It was the most normal day he had experienced in months, and that was what made it special.

Afterwards they warmed up over a simple dinner of soup and salad in the hotel's little restaurant, then retreated to their rooms for the night. Will insisted on giving Minxia her evening bath while Ren fed Michio, and then helping bathe and change his son as well. Three bedtime stories later he tucked Minxia in to sleep, gave his sleeping baby son a smile, and slipped out of the room, leaving only a night light behind him.

"Well that was surprisingly easy," Will smiled tiredly as he entered the main bedroom. "Are they always this good?"

"Of course they are," he heard Ren comment from the bathroom. "Even if they fussed you would ask if they were always so well behaved."

"You're right," he admitted, chuckling as he walked over to the door of the bathroom. He stopped in the entrance, his breath momentarily stolen by the sight of a most beautiful, utterly unclothed, female form. He hadn't lied earlier, for having given birth three months ago, Ren looked great! All right, so he was biased – and rather fond of the changes maternity had wrought in his slender Xingese wife – but she was truly stunning. "Maybe we should start on another."

Ren looked up at the comment, startled, then laughed and stood from where she had just finished drawing a steamy bath in the tub. "I love you, William, but I refuse to spend the _rest_ of this war pregnant too. Ask me again when we're all safely in Central."

That hadn't even really been what Will meant to say. It had just come out without thinking. He flushed slightly, then smiled. "All right. Maybe I will." He moved into the room. "Taking a bath without me?"

"No," Ren shook her head. "I was rather hoping you would be so inclined as to join me."

"How could I say no?" Will laughed as he went to remove his shirt.

It was not a long bath, but it was enjoyable. Will couldn't remember the last time he had been able to reach that spot in the middle of his back where, despite long arms and flexibility, he could never get just the way he wanted. Nor could he recall the last time he had felt so relaxed as when, afterwards, he was treated to one of Ren's absolutely amazing back and shoulder massages as he lay on his stomach on the bed.

"You're so tense," she commented softly as she worked on a particularly knotted muscle. "And lean," she added, one hand running lightly down his back for a moment.

"Is that a complaint?" Will asked with a tired chuckle. His skin prickled pleasantly under her fingers.

"Maybe," she replied. He felt her hands slide back up to his shoulders. "I'm allowed to worry about you, aren't I?" Her lips brushed the back of his neck, then the side. He could feel the length of her body against his back. It was warm, soft.

"As if I could stop you." Will wriggled and rolled over underneath her, eliciting a squeak from Ren as she rebalanced to stay on the bed. Her long dark hair, down at the moment, tickled his nose as it framed that delicate face, smooth neck… He reached up and pulled her down against him, kissing her with the passion he had been resisting all day.

Ren did not resist. Instead, she kissed him back, hands pressed against his sides, though she did not press her chest against him as firmly as he'd expected. Will felt foolish when he remembered why. _It's been too long. _They would be highly sensitive right now, sore from feeding. He loosened his grip just a little, and received a brief smile for his thoughtfulness.

Will allowed himself to get fully absorbed in the sensations, his need, the overwhelming love and appreciation for his wife. For months he had been harder, more distant, focused on surviving and not letting what he was doing get to him. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised when the overwhelming surge of emotion and release was not merely physical. Almost immediately, as his muscles relaxed, he found himself shaking. Not from physical exertion, but the feelings that he had been forced to contain for his own sanity all this time. His face was wet.

Ren snuggled against him, her eyes wide with worry. "Will, what's wrong?"  
_  
Nothing being with you isn't fixing. _Will took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Just this whole war," he replied. "I know I'm doing what I ought to be, and I don't regret my decision but it's _hard._ I never thought I'd kill another person and now…"

"I understand." Ren's hand came to rest on his chest, just over his heart. "You've changed, Will. I knew you would the moment you told me you wanted to do this."

He knew he had, but he had wondered how much it showed. "Does it bother you, knowing what I've been doing?"

Ren took a moment before she answered. "It bothers me how hard it is on you," she explained. "You would have gone crazy if you had stayed home though. You've got an adventurer's heart, and a very strong protective streak." Her smile returned. "You're protecting everything you care about, and as long as you're still worried about it, then I know that the parts of you I love most are still very much alive."

A weight Will hadn't realized he was carrying lifted in that moment. Relieved, he hugged her. "I love you," he whispered. "I hate being apart from you and the kids. I feel like I abandoned you when you were carrying Mich." There were things he could confess in the safe warmth of her arms that hadn't felt right on paper. He hadn't been able to express them then. Now, here, together, he could tell her the full depth of the feelings he had only hinted at in his letters. "I was so afraid he wouldn't like me, even though I know that sounds foolish. You'd all have a right to hate me for going off… but you don't, and I've never been so grateful for anything in my whole life as I am to have you, all of you."

"I love you, too," Ren reassured, returning his embrace. "Minxia does too, and Michio will know you as well as she does when this is over. I have faith that you'll come home to us, and we can put this whole awful war behind us." She smiled then. "I brought you something. I was going to wait until tomorrow, to share with the children, but perhaps you could use one now."

"One what?" Will looked at her oddly as she slipped out of bed and pulled something out of her suitcase. Just what did his wife have in mind? He got his answer a minute later as she presented him with a small container of palm-sized apple tarts. "Did you make these?"

Ren smiled, pleased by his reaction. "I did. Your mother showed me some of the finer points. Really, they aren't so different from Xingese pastries."

"My most noble lady," Will chuckled, reaching for one. They did smell delicious! "What would the Xingese court say to see you cooking Amestrian sweets?"

"They would tell me I was doing my well and proper duty as a wife." Ren stuck out her tongue playfully. Her expression turned to nervousness. "Is it good?"

"Let me take a bite first," Will chided, doing just that. In a moment he knew for certain that they were the same recipe his mother used. "Mmm…that's good," he mumbled around the last few crumbs.

"You're not just saying that?" Ren asked cautiously.

"No I'm serious! They're great." Will reached for another one. "I'm surprised you made them though. Usually you're the one scolding me."

The good-natured teasing made her smile. "I had the feeling you wouldn't lack for physical activity out here. So, do you feel better?"

Will considered the tarts for a moment. So simple, and foolish as he might feel, they had distracted him. Ren knew just what he needed, even when it was just a little something to take his mind off his problems. "Yeah, actually, I do."

**February 17****th****, 1964**

"Do you remember what a hot sausage tastes like?" Tore asked rhetorically as he chewed on the luke-warm lump of meat on his fork that the mess tent cooks insisted was a sausage.

"I don't think I remember what hot is," Cal admitted, snickering. He picked up his own sausage with his fingers and shoved it into his mouth, chewing hard. "But I'm pretty sure this isn't really a sausage."

"Oh quit griping." On the other side of both of them Edward Elric sat around the same fire in camp that they were eating around, trying to keep warm. "If you don't like it cook for yourself." He was doing just that, Tore noticed. Fullmetal had put his sausage on a stick and had it over the coals.

"I should have thought of that," Tore groaned as he finished swallowing his last piece.

"There's always tomorrow morning," Cal pointed out. "Well, if they even have sausage."

"Or what they call sausage," Edward pulled his back from the fire and took a bite. It steamed in the cold air. "It's better half burnt."

"Aren't you boys finished eating yet?" Lyssandra Fines asked as she strode up and stopped, looming above them with her hands on her hips. "What happened to wolfing down your food?"

"No wolf would stoop so low as to eat this stuff," Cal quipped.

Tore stifled a snicker. "We're almost finished, Emerald, ma'am."

Fines smiled. "Don't worry about it. I've got good news for you two, and the rest of the unit. We've got new orders." She held up a piece of paper that looked like a recent telegram. "Sky Fire says we're moving back to the Central front, effective immediately."

Tore blinked. That had not been news he had been expecting. Not that he was complaining! "Who's taking our place?"

"Another unit that hasn't seen as much action yet," Fines replied. "We've got the Drachmans on the run here. Apparently Rehnquist and Breda both want the best alchemists in the hot spots."

"So for a reward, we get more work and get tossed into the thick of things," Cal nodded sagely. "Sounds about right."

Fines rolled up the telegram and bopped Cal over the head with it. "Smart ass. We're leaving this afternoon, so pack your things." She looked up at Fullmetal and pulled another telegram out of her pocket. "They told me to give you this while I was at the communications post. I expect it's orders."

Tore watched Edward's eyes light up as he reached out and took it. "Hopefully the same kind," he commented, though he chuckled as he did it. Ever since coming back from North City he seemed in better spirits, or at least, in less discomfort. The forced leave had obviously been good for him. Fullmetal's eyes scanned the telegram.

"Well it's orders," he said finally. "It looks like our transfer will be a little while in coming."

"Why leave you out here?" Tore asked, surprised. Fullmetal's unit was down to three alchemists; three good ones.

"Kane says it's just until they can get another unit out here to switch out," Edward shrugged, apparently not upset at the news. "We'll be heading back the same as you in the next month or two."

"Bet you're looking forward to that," Cal grinned.

Tore knew what Cal meant, and obviously Edward did too because he chuckled. "Frankly, even a warm-ish room with a real bed would make me happy right now. If that bed includes my wife, I'll be even happier."

Right now, Tore had to admit that a bed with any warm female body – even just for the sake of cuddling up and keeping warm – would be welcome. He envied the men back home with their wives and girlfriends. Heck, right now he envied any guy who'd managed to find a willing bed partner or a professional for the night! Going back to North City; maybe Angela would be available.

"Lucky," Fines chuckled. "I wish I'd find my husband waiting. Well, I need to go tell the others. Behave gentlemen," she gave Tore and Cal a knowing look. "And I'll see you at the trucks in a few hours."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tore chorused with Cal. Then he turned back to his plate which, on top of the now eaten chewy sausage, still held some cold, somewhat slimy scrambled eggs.

Fullmetal stood and stretched. "I need to go talk to Fletcher and Finn. See you later." He turned and left as well.

Tore watched him go. He couldn't help but wonder if Edward was as relaxed about staying longer as he seemed. Probably, he decided. No matter how disappointed he was, the Fullmetal Alchemist seemed much more likely to get testy about small things. When it was something bigger that he just couldn't control, but had a reason, he seemed to deal with it just fine.

"I give up." Cal dumped what little remained of his own eggs into the fire pit. "Let's go start packing. I can't wait to get out of this ice box."

"It's not any warmer in North City," Tore pointed out, chuckling as he did the same.

"But at least we might have a chance at warmer accommodations." Cal pointed out. He stood and headed towards their tent.

Right now, they could have offered Tore millions of sens, and he would have traded every one of them for a soak in a deep, hot tub, a real meal, and a warm bed.


	23. Chapter 23

**February 20****th****, 1964**

Winry took off her protective goggles and pulled the bandana off her head. There, another piece of auto-mail finished and ready to go back on the person to whom it belonged! She glanced at the clock, and decided it was definitely time for a break. She could come back and do the next piece later. After dinner maybe. It wasn't like she had anything else she needed to do this evening.

She stood to go wash up, and was surprised to find someone standing in the doorway when she turned around. "May I help you, Sergeant?"  
The man nodded, looking slightly bemused. "General Breda requests your presence in his conference room, Mrs. Elric."

"My presence, may I ask what for?" What would Breda want with her that he sent an official request?

"You may, but I do not know the answer, ma'am," the man shrugged apologetically. "Please hurry. He is expecting you."

How truly bizarre. Winry spent the occasional evening with Breda, Feury, Falman, Franz, or whoever she knew who was around and not on duty. Despite the sheer number of people involved in fighting a war, it could still get lonely, and the hours were often odd. She was grateful that Ethan worked mostly day shifts. It meant they both worked the same hours and she got to see at least one of her children regularly.

Winry cleaned up quickly, bundled up warm, and headed out of the hospital and down the few blocks to the building that housed the war offices. There were plenty of lights coming from the windows she knew to be the war room and other areas confiscated for military use. So whatever was going on, it was going to be another busy night for the command staff.

Breda was not the only person waiting for her in his conference room when she arrived. His entire command staff was present, as well as several other people she did not know of varying ranks. Breda smiled when she entered. "Oh good, you're here. Now we can get started."

"You were waiting on me for a meeting?" Winry stepped up to the table, where a general pulled back a chair and offered her a seat. Still curious, she took it with a gracious nod.

"We could use your perspective," Breda commented, a little vaguely in her opinion. "The short answer is, however; we're sending a team on a mission into Fort Briggs."

Winry looked at the table in front of her. Spread out were maps of the area up to Briggs, and then diagrams of the interior of Briggs itself. "And what, exactly, is the mission supposed to accomplish?" If Breda thought they could get a team there, and inside, alive, than it had to be worth listening to.

"Finding the living refugees, getting them out, and causing as much wanton destruction as possible," Falman commented. "We know, through reliable sources, that there are a couple of ways in and out of Briggs other than the primary gates, despite the fact that you won't find them on any blueprints."

"So how do you expect to find them?" Winry had been in Briggs. It was a long time ago now, but she remembered those walls. They were rather hard to forget.

"One of the escaped engineers," Breda replied. "He brought us a good bit of our initial intelligence, and snuck out through one of these passages. He thinks that, if the timing is done carefully, he could lead another team in and out again. There just wasn't time to make an organized effort, and almost everyone likely to have had the time to escape would be civilian workers without weapons, or lower ranking soldiers working in those sectors." He pulled over the maps of Briggs' interior, pointing to the areas he meant as he went. "We can be fairly certain most of those people are alive. If they had been killed, the Drachmans would be bragging about it."  
"I understand the rescue element of the mission," Winry nodded when the explanation stopped. "What I don't fully understand yet is what you want to accomplish as far as destruction, and what this has to do with me."

"Well, to answer you in reverse," Breda smiled, "We need a creative mechanical genius, and you were the first person we thought of."

Was she blushing? Probably. "Well, I appreciate the compliment," Winry replied. "What's the rest of your answer?"

"The best way to cause trouble for the Drachmans at Briggs is to take on Briggs itself," Falman took up the explanation again. "If the heaters don't work, the water systems, the wiring, than Briggs becomes a cave instead of a haven. To _survive_ up there the Fort has to run properly."

Aldon had told her much the same thing years back. Winry nodded. "So you want me to come up with some inventive ways of doing that as quickly as possible and without detection if at all possible."

"Exactly," Breda nodded. "We'd like your input and planning with our Engineers," he gestured to a Brigadier General and a Colonel at the other end of the table, "And, if possible, your agreement to go on the mission and assist with carrying out the plan."

That last part Winry had _not _expected. "What about my work here?"

"We're not planning to get this rolling until March, get to the Fort by April," Feury replied calmingly. "We'll have time to make sure the auto-mail workshop is covered."

It was a little frightening, but also intriguing, and flattering to be asked to go on such a challenging mission. "You're sure we can even get _to_ Briggs?"

"As long as you stay off the major highway," Falman nodded. "The Drachmans aren't guarding every backwater road, and as long as we send the mission in plainclothes than there's nothing to distinguish you from anyone else if you're careful."

"Who else is going on this mission?" She hadn't accepted yet, but it was surprising to realize that she wanted to.

"Not more than twenty men," Breda took over the conversation again. "A combination of engineers, demolitions experts, a couple of medics, and soldiers to protect the rest."

It was a lot to think about, but Winry took her time, refusing to be rushed. It was a sound proposition. As she looked at the schematics for Briggs' systems, she could see several ways of destroying them, including rigged timers so that they wouldn't automatically be destroyed while their men were still in the area. "I think it's doable."

"Then you're in?"

"Yes, I'm in." Winry nodded. "Have you chosen the rest of the team?"

"Not everyone," Breda admitted. "That's something else I wanted to ask you. I'd like to assign Aldon to this mission."

Aldon… Winry's heart skipped a beat. Her son going up into the heart of enemy territory. It was a chilling thought, though a moment later she realized that feeling any more worried about Aldon than the others was foolish. He had survived so far, even in combat zones, and he knew the inner workings of Briggs better than most, having worked on them for over a year. "I think you should," she agreed. "He'd be a great asset to the mission, but then you know that or you wouldn't be asking." Not that they had to ask, but Winry appreciated that Breda was actually waiting on her input. If she had said no… she suspected that Aldon would not be sent. "If he agrees."

"It will be an offer, not an order," Breda agreed. Winry suspected his flexibility on the subject was still related to the family's loss of Nancy's son months before, just trying to leave North City at the wrong time. She knew it had been hard on them all. Still, she appreciated Breda's courtesy.

"I think he'll probably take it," Winry admitted. The chance to go straight up to Briggs and take direct action, and find out about his friends… yes, her son would brave that danger.

"Excellent," the general noted as one of those dealing with the engineers nodded. Apparently there was no time like the present to get started. "So… what do you think is the best way to destroy the water-works?"

**February 23****rd****, 1964**

Maes Mustang sighed as he headed for the doors of the North City military hospital. It had been another long, boring, relatively useless shift. Oh, not that he hadn't been fairly constantly busy, but fixing busted gurney wheels and corroded toilet pipes hardly seemed like jobs that needed an alchemist, even if he was faster than a mechanic or a plumber.

Every day was like that; menial tasks that were needed, useful, but hardly much in the grand scheme of the war effort. It didn't matter what it said on paper. Technically, Maes was assigned to the hospital as an _aide_ and to protect the hospital. But protect it from what? The war had been pushed far enough away that the fighting couldn't be heard. It was days – and several towns – north of North City now.

He was a State Alchemist! That made him a soldier, not somebody's custodian! It just wasn't fair. Day after day of the same thing, and what good was it doing? Why was he even here if his own unit didn't want him?

"Hey, Maes!"

He paused and turned, a little surprised to see Ethan Elric coming towards him. Ethan looked relaxed, so Maes doubted it was an official issue. "What is it?"

Ethan shrugged and smiled as he joined him. "I just got off duty. I just thought you might like to hang out. I'm going to the pub down the street with a couple of the guys."

"Pub, you?" Maes knew Ethan didn't drink, and he knew why. It wasn't exactly a secret. Of course, it was possible to get a soda pretty much anywhere. Still, it wasn't Ethan's usual kind of hang out spot as far as he knew.

Ethan shrugged. "If I want a good conversation, I go where the people are friendly and talkative. In this case, I'm going with people I know will talk to me, added bonus."

It seemed like a sincere request, but it still felt odd. Ethan had never offered to hang out with him before. "Maybe another time," Maes turned him down politely. "I'm not really in the mood tonight."

One of the things he liked about Ethan; the man didn't push once he was told no. Instead he nodded. "All right, but it's a standing offer. I just thought you might be bored. This isn't really an exciting place except when we wish it wasn't." In other words, when it was full of critically wounded patients.

"That's true," Maes agreed. "Though I wouldn't mind more familiar faces."

"Well that should happen soon," Ethan grinned. "Sara, Will, and the rest ought to be here day after tomorrow, if their next short leave hasn't been delayed."

"They will?" Maes hadn't heard about that. A sudden flare of annoyance hit him. Kane hadn't even bothered to tell him when his unit's leave was? "I wonder if I get leave. No one's mentioned it."

"Oh," Ethan looked surprised. "Well, I would assume so, but I guess that's a question for the Sky Fire Alchemist isn't it?"

"Oh damned straight it is," Maes growled. "He hasn't told me anything in weeks! I do my work and send in my reports and all I ever get is a _keep it up, Mustang, good work. _No real news as to what's going on, or when I can expect to get a _real_ assignment. He's dumped me back here and left me to do work any wet-behind-the-ears kid could handle!"

"Stressed?"

"Yeah, maybe a little," Maes admitted, immediately embarrassed by his outburst. "I think I'm going to go find dinner, then head back to my room and relax. Maybe I'll check and see if there's any new letters at the post." If she was still on schedule, Elena's next letter would arrive in the next couple of days. She wrote very regularly.

"There's an idea," Ethan grinned. "Well, I should go. Take care."

"I will." Maes watched Ethan go. Maybe he should have taken him up on the offer, but he wasn't feeling particularly hospitable, and he didn't want to bring down anyone else's mood. He turned and left the building, heading through the cold dark streets. It wasn't even that late. He hated the North, the cold, and the winter darkness.

The military post was separate from the civilian post office and open later. Maes checked there on the way _home_ and found that, as expected, he had another letter from Elena. This one seemed even thicker than usual; the envelope bulging. That probably meant that the kids had added their own letters.

As he left, he decided he didn't want to hit the Mess for dinner. He was sick of military food and hospital food – and military hospital food was the worst. There was that little place nearby that was still open, with Kala, the bartender and owner. That would do. It was closer, warm, and while he had told Ethan he wasn't in the mood, it was more because he didn't want to have to socialize. By himself, it wasn't required, and the barkeep usually left him alone.

The place was fairly quiet tonight. Of course, ever since the war had pushed back away from the city more than a day's drive, there were very few soldiers actually in North City. He saw a few of the remaining locals. A few had even insisted on returning in the past month, though the military hadn't encouraged it.  
Maes ordered a beer and his dinner – tonight's meal, a chunky vegetable and beef stew with herbs – at the bar, and took a seat near the end furthest from the door. It was warmer there. As soon as his food and drink arrived, he opened the envelope.

There were, he found, letters from each of his three children, and he read those first. Young Roy's was a full page and recounted his _harrowing adventures_ in elementary school. Théa's was shorter, but mostly said she missed him and mentioned her friends. Rochelle's was a big colored picture with flowers and kitties and _I love you _scribbled on it.

Maes couldn't help smiling as he read. Of the three of them, only Roy really had any inclination of what was going on in the world. He was the only one of them old enough to really get it, though Théa was close. He missed them a lot.

Finally he tucked their letters into his pocket and opened the much longer letter from Elena. It was fairly typical of most of her letters. She called him darling, told him first about the news in Central and goings on with people he knew who were still back home. She went to great length about each of the children and what they were up to, their triumphs and tribulations. All of it written in her very neat, flowing handwriting.

Well into the second page, she finally got into the more personal part of her letter.

_I am glad to hear that you are feeling better. I am certain that Brigadier General Kane will soon reassign you back to the front. How could they not? You are too valuable and skilled. But, I admit, I shall be a little sorry to hear of it. It puts my heart at ease knowing that you are not currently in immediate danger. It means a certainty that you will return to me. I know you will be happy to fight again, and I am glad for that, but I shall miss the security. _

She knew he would be glad to go back to fighting, but she didn't want him to? What did that mean? Did she think he wasn't really that good either? Or maybe she just meant that she didn't really want him fighting. After all, she claimed that she also believed he would go back soon. It confused him. If she felt that way, why had she said anything at all? It seemed, sometimes, that he understood her less every day. Or maybe he was reading too much into it. She was just worried about him. He read on through the rest of her love and missing him, but nearly choked when he got to the next paragraph.

_As for myself, little has changed since I last wrote save for one rather interesting bit of news. President Rehnquist has personally requested my presence in the next diplomatic liaison sent to the government in Aerugo for further negotiations in terms of getting possible military support. The previous talks confirmed only that they would not take the opportunity to reopen hostilities with Amestris and honor the current treaty. Rehnquist hopes that, in light of this, they will be willing to concede to actual support. He feels that my presence would be beneficial, and I agree._

I was remiss to accept at first, but Gracia Hughes and Elicia Elric both assured me that Roy, Théa, and Rochelle are welcome with them for the time that I would be gone. So I am going to accept the assignment. I am sure the children will not mind, since they will be able to play with Sara's children more regularly again. I also think that Aerugo can be persuaded to protect their own investments, and promote their International image, by aiding us and am grateful for the opportunity to do my part.

_ I will, of course, write you regularly from Bueáire, and be home as soon as I am able. Be well my love. _

_ With all my love and devotion, Elena _

Elena was going to Aerugo, just like that. Well, he supposed he couldn't fault Rehnquist's logic. Elena's family had been very influential in Aerugo until their deaths, and very popular in some circles; circles which now had control of the country again in many respects. Elena Albaraçan Mustang would definitely be an influential statement in the retinue. That, and Elena did have fantastic skills as a diplomat. So why did it feel wrong? Maybe it was because they would both be gone from the kids, something that had never happened before. Or maybe it was something else.

"Want another?" Kala asked, coming over.

Maes looked down at his empty soup bowl and drink. She was referring to the beer he realized. "Sure," he nodded simply, looking back down at the letter. It left him feeling dissatisfied and confused. He should be happy to get a letter from his wife.

So why did he feel like he'd failed her? Elena was being asked to go do something important, and here he was doing practically nothing. Even his _father _was more useful! Plenty of stories were coming in from the East about Roy Mustang's latest exploits. The great Flame Alchemist was at it again; along with True Soul and Strong Arm; the old time heroes making it big once more with their alchemical talents.

What word of him? Nothing. The Firebrand Alchemist might as well not exist. He had screwed up again, and his commanding officer no longer trusted him to do anything important.

"What did that beer ever do to you, handsome?"

Maes jumped so hard he nearly spilled what remained of his second glass. Looking sideways, he found himself looking straight at… _Elena? _No. Only a moment later he knew he wasn't looking at his wife. That was ridiculous. But there was a very lovely brunette with dark eyes sitting at the bar next to him who did bear a reasonable resemblance at a glance. Her voice was similar too, but without the attractive lilting accent Elena had never lost. "Excuse me?"

The woman chuckled. "You were glaring at it. Was it that bad? I usually like the drinks here."

Oh. "No, sorry. I was thinking," Maes shrugged, setting down the glass. "You're local?"

"Yeah. I'm Eileen," she smiled. "I work at the pharmacy. You're a State Alchemist."

"Umm… yeah. How'd you know?" Maes had never met her before, had he? He was certain he would have remembered a woman who looked this much like his wife.

He felt a tug at his pocket and looked down. She had one finger on the chain. "Dead give away," she replied. "That and I've seen you around a while."

"Keeping an eye on me?"

It was meant as a joke, but her expression turned a little more pleased. "Maybe. Am I not allowed to notice attractive guys? There aren't enough around lately for a single girl."

Was she hitting on him? Maes was almost certain of it. He reached for his cup again, turning just enough that his wedding band was visible on the hand still on the bar. "That's too bad. I suppose you're allowed to notice who you want of course."

She got the hint. He could see it in her eyes. "Well I'm glad I have your approval," she smiled easily. "Sorry, you looked lonely."

"I miss my wife." Maes made it as casual a statement as he could. She didn't need his personal history.

"I hear that a lot," Eileen admitted. "I hope you're one of the few who actually means it. You seem like a good guy." Her drink arrived then, and she stood up. "Have a nice night." Then she turned and walked away, that was it.

Maes watched her go, wondering at her statement. Her hips moved a lot like Elena's used to… He shook himself. What was he thinking? He didn't compare Elena to other women. She was beautiful, and he loved her. _If you love her so much, why are you so afraid of cheating? _

Sometimes Maes hated talking to himself. His mind liked to produce uncomfortable questions. If he was so sure he loved his wife, why _was_ he so concerned about cheating? Why was he always paranoid that she was having too much fun with other men when she was out of the country on diplomatic assignments? She had never given him any reason to think she was anything other than faithful.

_Or maybe I just can't accept that things are that simple. _Nothing was ever that simple. Here he was, far from home, where no one would ever know… and he had turned down the only woman who had hit on him since he got here. That was a good thing. It was what he was supposed to do. But if she looked so much like his wife, why _wasn't _he more attracted to her? _Bullshit. Of course you were attracted. You were looking at her ass. _

Damn it, he was over-thinking things again! He had to get out of here; out of North City, and back out on the firing line where he belonged. He finished his beer, paid for his meal, and left. The next time he saw Kane, he was going to _make_ the man assign him back to combat missions! Otherwise, he was going to think himself crazy well before the war ended.

**February 28****th****, 1964**

"I'm glad you finally made up your mind," Alyse's mother smiled as she handed Alyse a clean blouse.

Alyse took it, contemplated it for a moment, then went ahead and put it in her suitcase. "So am I," she admitted. It had taken so long to come to terms with the fact that, while she had no fantastic skills to offer in fighting the war, there were things she would rather be doing than sitting around Central doing practically nothing. She had no weddings to plan currently, and likely none until the war was over. The office she worked for at Headquarters was downright dead. Other than a couple of very small private dinners between some of the Assembly, President Rehnquist, and the current visiting dignitaries from other countries, there was almost nothing that needed planning for the military in the way of those kinds of events. Even when there was, often she was not assigned a major part. She was still one of the younger members of the team, and a civilian besides.

So, it was time to go where she felt needed and, strange as it was to admit, where she wanted to be. Not that she expected to see combat, but she could work as an aide, or more likely she would be assigned nursing duties any child could handle. Still, it was something she could do directly to help. That, and hopefully it meant she would be able to see and talk to people she desperately missed.

"Are you sure you'll see him?"

Alyse turned her head over her shoulder as she picked up the pants, and couple of skirts, she had decided to take with her. "The letter that came yesterday said they were being transferred back to the North City area," she pointed out. "So there's a good chance. Certainly better than by staying here."

That was another decision she had come to. She needed to talk to Calvin, and she wasn't going to wait until the end of the war. What if something happened to him and he didn't know? For that matter, there were things _she_ needed to know. She was sick of waiting and worrying about everyone.

"This is true," Elicia nodded, smiling. "You'll probably see Will too."

"Aunt Winry and Ethan are in North City. If I end up working in the hospital, I'll probably see them often." She would be glad for that. Sara and Aldon might be through as well. Sara almost certainly would be if she saw Will since they were in the same unit. "The only ones I probably won't see are Daddy and Uncle Edward."

"It's a shame they're so far flung out there," her mother sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "But you might see them on leave. It's almost enough to make me want to come with you."

That surprised her. Alyse turned around. "To the war, Mom? Even with the Drachmans?"

"I did say _almost_," Elicia smiled sadly. "No, I don't want to see the fighting or the dying, even if the Drachmans are the ones dying. But I miss your father, and Winry and Edward, and so many family and friends out there risking their lives for everyone else. But I'm not involved in Investigations anymore, and this really isn't their department anyway. If this had happened several years ago, I might have gone. Now, well… there are plenty of things I can do here, helping Ren and the kids, and my part in taking care of Trisha and James, and now Riza's grandchildren. Cassie called a couple of days ago. She's thinking of bringing the boys and coming up to Central for a visit once school is out."

"That will be nice," Alyse smiled. She wouldn't have minded seeing Cassie and the boys, but she couldn't have it both ways, not right now. She did one last inventory of her suitcase; shirts, pants, socks, undergarments of both types, sleepwear, skirts, shoes, toiletries… yes, everything was marked off her neatly written check-list. "I bet the kids have a great time." All five of Aldon's boys, Trisha, James, and Minxia would probably run all over the place together.

"Oh I'm sure they will," Elicia chuckled. "Don't forget the presents we made everyone."

"As if I could," Alyse chuckled. There was a huge basket of baked goods for everyone. She, her mother, and Aunt Gracia had been busy baking up a storm the last few days. There wasn't much else they could send up to war that would be appreciated and useful. "After all the complaints about the food, I shall be considered an angel of mercy."

Her mother surprised her again, scooping her up into a sudden hug. "Good, because I'm going to miss having you around. You tell everyone they better come home safe, or they'll have to deal with my wrath."

Alyse couldn't help giggling. "I'm sure they'll quake in fear, Mom."

"If they ever want to eat my cooking again they will," Elicia winked, stepping back. "Are you ready?"

Alyse nodded and picked up her suitcase. She was already dressed for travel, and the weather. She was glad her mother had offered to drive her to the train station though. "Yes, I'm ready." _Even if I wasn't, it's too late now. Here I go. _


	24. Chapter 24

**March 3****rd****, 1963**

Alyse was cold the moment she stepped off the train in North City. She wasn't expecting any reception, and received none. While she had made arrangements to be up here with her office, she had no official orders and news of her coming probably hadn't even reached family yet.

She was glad she had packed for the cold, because even though it was already March, North City was frigid! There was snow all over the place, mostly shoveled, but the ground was icy as she made her way carefully down the steps and into the street outside the station.

"Afternoon, Miss," a porter smiled. "Help you with your bags? Where are you headed?"

"The military hospital." Alyse had determined that the best place to head first was to find Ethan or Aunt Winry. They would be the easiest to find. "If you could please give me directions?"

"Of course," he nodded, gesturing down the street. "It's ten blocks that way, and then four to the left, you can't miss it. But you shouldn't be walking about in this, Miss."

"I'll be fine," Alyse smiled kindly. "I might as well get used to it right?"

Besides, she didn't see much in the way of public transportation. So she walked, and was well and truly half-frozen by the time the hospital came into view. The warmth that wafted over her as she made it through the doors was heavenly. She stood there for a minute, thawing.

"Can I help you?" This time the person to ask that was a nurse at the desk.

"Yes," Alyse stepped forward. "Could you tell me where to find Doctor Ethan Elric please? I need to speak with him when he has a moment."

"Is it medical?" The nurse looked at her.

"No," Alyse shook her head. "But it is work and family related. I'm Alyse Elric, his cousin."

"I see." The nurse looked down at scheduling. "Let me check on that. He's usually up on the second floor."

Alyse waited as she called up there, talked to what sounded like four people, and then hung up the phone. "Doctor Elric is on break. You may go up to the second floor."

"Thank you." Alyse was relieved that it was that simple. She hurried to the stairs and went up them.

Perhaps she should not have been surprised to see Ethan standing in the hallway in a lab coat, grinning at her. "You're here on business?" His tone was teasing.

"Of course I am," Alyse laughed, grateful when he stepped forward to meet her in a friendly hug. She set down the bag and basket to hug him back. "Can't you use another beautiful assistant to distract your injured patients?"

"Given all my nurses are male, any beautiful female nurse would be welcome," Ethan chuckled, stepping back again. "Are you really up here looking for work, Alyse?"

"I am," she nodded. "I couldn't stay home anymore. I'm not needed there." It occurred to her then that, perhaps, it would be harder to find a useful place than she had thought.

"Then I could definitely use your assistance," Ethan assuaged her fears. "You might find yourself fetching a lot of coffee, cleaning bed pans, and bleaching things, but I can keep you busy."

Bedpans. Alyse tried not to shudder. "I can do that," she smiled. "Besides, how much coffee do you drink?"

"I didn't say for just me," Ethan pointed out. "We're short-handed enough right now, having you to do that kind of stuff will free up time for the rest of the medical staff. Almost all of the original hospital staff evacuated with their patients."

"Then I'll actually be useful." Alyse was relieved to hear it.

"Very much," Ethan nodded. "Though what made you think of coming to talk to me?" He asked the question with a bemused expression.

Alyse chuckled. "Well you spent so much time following me around helping me with my projects that I thought maybe I could… return the favor."

"You think I believe that's the only reason?" Ethan's expression turned a little smug. "Your timing is impeccable. The Emerald Alchemist's unit got off the train from the Western front this morning."

"Oh." Alyse felt her cheeks flush. "Wait a minute…." How did he know?

Ethan started laughing. "Oh come on! How long have I known you, _dear cousin_? Besides, I hear all sorts of news. Like the fact you and Fischer have been writing back and forth since the war started."

"Right. Of course you know," Alyse shook her head. Hadn't she told Ethan about conversations she and Cal had had hanging out last year in Central? "So he's here?"

"Actually, he's in with Mom getting his auto-mail looked at right now," Ethan said. "We had them all in here getting looked over a little bit ago, you know, just to make sure the reports of _alive and kicking _from the combat medics have a more thorough background check." He winked. "I bet you could drop in and see him. Mom should be almost finished."

Alyse's heart fluttered. She hadn't actually expected to get to talk to Cal first thing, and he didn't know she was coming. How would he react? "Sure," she said anyway. "Oh, and I have something for you, when you get off duty," she added, smiling. "Mom, Grandma, and I have been busy." She gestured to the basket with a nod. "And there's something in there for you from Lia too."

"That's a big basket, you all afraid of us starving to death up here?" Ethan chuckled, though he looked past her eagerly.

Alyse poked her finger into his stomach. As she expected, she hit lean muscle with no give whatsoever. "Well they're certainly not over-feeding you," she chuckled. "Though Lia's package isn't food." In fact, from its compression, Alyse was betting on thick, warm hand-knitted items angled more towards the cause of keeping Ethan warm. She was glad he didn't look sick or frail, though he did look a little tired.

"I'm sure I'll enjoy both gifts then," he replied. "Well, I should get my coffee and get back to work. The auto-mail workshop is back downstairs at the end of the long hall off the lobby. I'll be off later. It's good to see you. We'll talk more about work later." He gave her a friendly wave and headed back down the hall.

Nervously, Alyse collected her things and headed back downstairs, taking an immediate right at the bottom and following the hallway Ethan had told her about. She didn't have to wonder long about finding the auto-mail shop. She heard familiar voices as she neared the end of the hallway and saw the open door: Aunt Winry, Tore, and in a moment of laughter, Cal.

"All right," Winry was saying as Alyse reached the door. "Stand up and tell me how that feels." Alyse saw her stand up and glance past Cal, who stood and took a few steps, tapping his foot on the ground and testing the leg. Alyse couldn't help but notice that he was only in his shorts and tank top. Her face went hot.

"Feels good, Mrs. Elric," Cal grinned. "Smooth as always."

"Thank you," Winry smiled, though she was giving Alyse an amused look. Tore, with his back to the door, obviously couldn't see her. "Hello," Winry addressed her directly. "I wasn't expecting you to show up here."

Alyse wasn't ready when Cal and Tore both turned around. Cal saw her first, expression wide with shock, and he stiffened, apparently realizing she had caught him pant-less. Seeing that, Tore turned. When he saw her, his eyes lit up and he grinned wickedly. "Hey, Alyse," Tore smiled. "Long time no see."

"Hi Tore," Alyse swallowed then looked at her Aunt. "Hi, Aunt Winry. I'll be helping Ethan out. I just got off the train."

"Well that's great news," Winry's amused look faded back to a more normal friendly smile. "I know Ethan and the others could use all the assistance they can get. I keep getting pulled to help too, so I'm sure you'll be a big help." She turned and started putting tools away. "You should relax and get something to eat. I'll talk to the officer in charge of the barracks building about letting you have a room near mine. With so few soldiers in North City these days there's plenty of room."

"Thank you." Alyse appreciated the offer. She wasn't entirely sure where that was either.

"No worries," Winry smiled as she turned around. "The boys can show you where everything is, isn't that right?"

"Sure," Tore chimed in immediately.

"Yeah, no problem," Cal nodded after a moment. He looked like he might rather have done something else.

"That's settled then," Winry nodded. "Now you boys get on out so I can get a break and then some more work done."

"Sure thing," Tore chuckled. He reached out and Alyse squeaked as he turned her by the shoulders. "Come on, let's give him some privacy."

"What f-" Alyse did not finish that statement as it occurred to her that Cal would probably like to put _on_ his pants and boots without an audience. "Where will we go first?" She asked instead.

In the hall, Tore smiled. "Lunch first. We haven't eaten since we got in and I know I'm famished! So I'm sure Cal is too."

"I haven't eaten yet either," Alyse admitted. "Though I brought treats for everyone."

Tore's eyes lit up. "You're a lifesaver! Though we'd better go after those _after_ lunch or there won't be any left for anyone else." He quieted down then, but he still looked slightly smug. Of course, Alyse reasoned, he and her aunt almost certainly knew as much of – if not more than – what her correspondence with Cal contained than Ethan did. If they knew anything. They might be guessing, but if so, Alyse needed to give her extended family more credit.

A minute later Cal – now fully dressed – joined them in the hallway. "So, let's go."

* * *

He had not been prepared for Alyse to show up; not at all. It was all Cal could do to stay calm and relaxed as he and Tore showed her where the barracks were located on their way past them to the Mess, which had been moved into a huge old cafeteria and gym style building out of the cold tents. Alyse just seemed very out of place with the world of the war around them; or perhaps it was just because he felt so out of place around her at the moment.

Still she was here and he couldn't deny one other feeling; how very much he wanted to be alone with her, for even a few minutes. But that was not going to happen immediately. For one thing, they had Tore along, and the expression of amusement in Tore's eyes told Cal how much he was enjoying this turn of events.

Lunch was far from stellar, but it was hot, plentiful, and compared to what he and Tore had been getting to the west, it might as well have been a feast! Even with Alyse sitting across from him and Tore, nibbling at her food no differently than she did in cafés in Central, Cal ate until he couldn't fit down another bite. He couldn't remember being honestly _full_ anymore. Tore did the same, and Alyse did not seem to find it strange. But then, so much of her family were made up of alchemists that Cal supposed it was normal for her. She did look amused from time to time, but made no disparaging comments. Then they headed back towards the barracks again. This time, when they got there and went inside, the main office had spoken with Mrs. Elric and Alyse had a room assigned that was, in fact, on the same floor as the Elrics' room. That meant, Cal knew, that it was probably a little larger and nicer than the regular rooms. Of course, in his mind, Alyse deserved it.

"I'm hitting the showers," Tore announced as he headed down the hall. "Hot water here I come!"

"See you later." Cal watched him walk off; just as aware that Tore was purposefully leaving him alone with Alyse. For a moment he tried to decide if Tore was a traitor or a true friend. "So, let's find your room." He offered Alyse an awkward smile and headed for the other set of stairs. He insisted on carrying at least the suitcase up the flights of stairs. The room was, as he had thought, nicer than the one he and Tore were expected to share. It also had its own little bathroom. "Not bad," he commented, looking around.

"It's nice," Alyse admitted quietly as she looked around. Cal was surprised to find that she seemed small here, and lost; a flower blossoming in a field of ice. _When did I get so poetic?_

He was even less prepared when Alyse, after a moment's hesitation, nearly launched herself into his arms, which closed around her body reflexively before he even had time to think! As soon as they closed though, Cal knew convincing himself to let go before she wanted him to was a lost cause. "Hey… are… are you all right?"

She was shaking, but she didn't seem to be laughing or crying, or in any way hysterical. "I've been so worried about you," she admitted. Her face turned upward, and while she was blushing she did not seem inclined to unwrap her arms from his midsection either. "That something would happen before I… I could talk to you."

His heart was pounding in his chest, his ears, his limbs. "You write a lot," he pointed out gently.

"Not like that," she scowled just slightly; he tried to ignore how it made her even prettier. "Face to face again, like we did last year only…"

"Only?" Where was she going with this? His instincts couldn't be right. There was no way…

"Only like this," she finished. "I didn't want anything to happen before you knew… before I could tell you how I feel. If you never knew I… I couldn't live with that. Without you knowing and without my knowing…"

_She does mean it. _Was it possible? Well, of course it was. "Tell me." He barely got the words out. He wouldn't think anything until he heard what she wanted to say. Still, his voice sounded dry.

"I know you may not want to hear this… but I'm… I'm in love with you," Alyse replied, still nervous but he could almost see her resolve steeling in those deep green eyes. "I was afraid to let it happen but… but there's nothing to be done about it. I love you. I want to love you, even if you don't feel the same. It feels right to me, and I need to know how you feel. If I'm just being a stupid girl again or if I'm right in guessing that you still have feelings for me too."

Well that was getting it out in the open! Cal slowly forced his head to nod. He could do this. She loved him! His suspicions, long ignored, were confirmed and right here, right now, he had to own up or lose his chance. "I know you do…" he replied hoarsely. "I can see it in your face." One hand came up, brushing her cheek lightly with the backs of his fingers. Her skin was so soft. "I think… I feel the same. I tried not to, and you know why, but it didn't do any good." He smiled weakly. "I'm scared. I admit it. It's hard to… to accept this."

Her hands loosened, and one moved. The next thing he knew it was resting on his chest, just over his leaping heart. "I know, Cal," Alyse replied with surprising gentleness. She seemed calmer in the face of his near-panic. "I understand, really." Now, after Vince, Cal had no problem believing that of her. "I don't want to rush things but… but I'd like to try again, if you're willing."

She was serious. Better, she wasn't getting horribly emotional or trying to play games. "My past… relationships… don't bother you anymore?"

"No," Alyse replied with a single shake of her pretty head. "That would be stupid of me. You don't hold mine against me and… the old reasons are so old that it's pointless."

She really had grown up. Even in the last year, Cal could see changes. He spent a moment hanging in agonizing indecision. Tore thought he should be with her. His mother's advice seemed to follow that. Mrs. Elric and Ethan both seemed to know, and yet hadn't said a word of objection. They seemed to find it amusing. Cal knew what he wanted, but did he have the courage to go for it? Win or lose; success or failure… could he risk his heart again? More importantly, if he died, would he regret having missed out on time they might have had together? Would he feel bad about doing that to her? "All right then. Would you… like to go out tonight?"

From her expression, from another girl Cal might have thought she had just received the proposal of her dreams. Alyse's expression brightened and her arm snaked up around his neck and pulled his head toward hers.

A moment later they were kissing in a way Cal honestly could not remember the last time he had felt so strongly about a kiss. It wasn't more sexually charged than others he had known. It wasn't more practiced, or more innocent, or anything particularly strikingly different… except that it was Alyse, and that made all the difference in the world. They had kissed before, years ago, and he had enjoyed it then. Now, there was something more to it. _So… this is love. _

When the kiss finally broke, Cal nearly crushed her to his chest for several more moments before letting her stand straight again. "Thank you."

Alyse chuckled. "Thank _you_. I was so afraid I would scare you away."

"I was afraid you might scare me too," he chuckled sheepishly. There was more to it than this though. He might as well get it all out of the way now. "Though I have to ask, what am I going to have to change?" He wasn't without faults, and a girl like Alyse had to have made note of them. If nothing else, she was particular.

"Other than stick with one girl," she asked with a weak smile? "Nothing. If I can't accept you for who you are we shouldn't be together."

Now that was the sweet Alyse he was used to. "It's a nice thought, Alyse," he smiled, "But I know there are things about me you'd change if you had a choice. Just tell me what they are and get it out in the open." Honesty… he needed the honesty. It would remind him that this wasn't too amazing to be real.

Alyse hesitated, as if she didn't want to hurt his feelings. But, as always, she spoke up in the end the way he had asked. She had never refused to answer one of his questions. "Well you drink too much."

"Noted," Cal said. "Go on."

"I hate the smell and taste of cigarettes. They're bad for you too," she added, emboldened by his lack of anger.

Cal sighed inwardly. "So I've heard. Anything else?"

Alyse's lip caught in her teeth. "Just… please be honest about your feelings. We have to actually talk to each other. I know this won't always be easy. We've both had some unpleasant experiences with romance and… there's things we'll need to work through. As long as we can talk to each other though, we'll be okay. All right, your turn."

"For what?" Had he missed something?

"To tell me what you don't like about me," Alyse smiled coyly.

Cal hesitated, but realized that if he didn't he was already being dishonest. This wasn't going to be easy. He swallowed. "Well, for starters you're occasionally overly emotional; you're judgmental about people and act like you're better than them sometimes, whether you think that way or not. And frankly… you're just too innocent."

He waited for the explosion, but it never came. "Less now than you might think," Alyse chuckled kissing him again briefly. Cal responded willingly, a little surprised by the heat in it and how tightly Alyse held him. When they parted he looked askance at her. "You haven't…" He ignored the weird urge in him to kill Vince if he had_ touched_ Alyse that way even though the guy had had more right than Cal ever had.

Alyse shook her head. "No… not yet."

Was she offering? This was too much in one day if she was. Cal shook his head and took a step back, though he left his hands on her arms. "Alyse… I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think we should wait on… " Hell, he was stumbling over the words. He wasn't used to a girl making him feel flustered! "I want to do this right."

Alyse looked puzzled for a moment, and Cal braced as he waited for her to get angry or tell him she was making a mistake again. Instead, she chuckled and shook her head. "You are so strange. I think I have you figured out and you surprise me. I want to wait."

"Then why offer?" She was just succeeding in confusing him further.  
"Well that seems to be all you ever want from girls," Alyse replied pointedly, though not unkindly. "Have you ever dated a girl and not slept with her?"

Cal opened his mouth to insist _of course_, but the words died on his tongue. "It's been a while" he admitted. He felt irritated, but he wasn't sure with whom exactly. He didn't regret who he was or the things he had done…or who with. Clearly Alyse wasn't holding it against him either. "That's why it matters… if that makes sense."

Alyse smiled, looking slightly relieved. She hugged him again. "Completely. Thank you."

Cal wondered if he would ever stop feeling startled by her. "You didn't want to, did you?"

Alyse looked up at him, clearly embarrassed. "I do, actually," she admitted softly. "But I always dreamed of that moment being with my husband… as innocent and prudish as you might think it. After what happened with Vince… I was so sure, and that messed up. I thought about it. He wanted to. Now, I'm glad I didn't."

"I understand." He couldn't promise marriage though, at least, not yet. He nodded, gently pushing a lock of hair out of her face. "Then whenever that time comes and… whoever that guy is, if it's me or anyone else… it will be. I appreciate the offer more than you might understand, but I have a rule I try not to break and I'm really not going to do it now on a whim."

"Good," Alyse smiled, looking relieved. "If you were now, I'd be worried about what might have changed you. So," she shifted the subject slightly, "Where did you have in mind for us to go out tonight? I don't think there are many jazz clubs functioning in North City right now."

Cal couldn't help laughing. His tension eased. "I'm afraid there's nothing left but a couple of bars that are also cafés, and a bakery. Or so I hear tell. We just got back here after all ourselves."

Alyse nodded. "How… how long will you be in North City?"

At that, Cal's conscience twinged. "A few days," he admitted. "We're going out with Sky Fire's unit on a mission soon. It's important." Here he was promising things, and he could be dead in a week.

"Then I'll see you when you come back," Alyse replied somberly. "I'm not leaving. I told Ethan I wanted to assist him here and I meant it. I couldn't do anything back home, and while I'm not really in any danger here, at least I'm helping."

Brave; like the rest of her family. Cal smiled and kissed her cheek. "We could use more cute nurses," he teased. It was easier than saying something profoundly cheesy about feeling proud. "Though if I catch you spoon feeding anyone else I might have to get jealous."

"Better them than you being injured enough to need to be spoon fed," Alyse giggled. "Given how much you and Tore packed down earlier, feeding you enough would take months with a spoon."

"Hey, cut a guy a little slack," Cal smirked. "It's our first real _meal_ in months."

Alyse winked at him. "Yeah, sure. That's what they all say."

It was so surreal, standing here in a strange room, having confessed his feelings and found them reciprocated, with Alyse Elric in his arms. Stranger still, was while he certainly desired her as he had nothing else in his life… that did not include the need to drag her immediately to the bed. He was happy to hold her close, and to know that she really would do anything, it seemed, to be with him. Even coming all the way up into a war zone. For however long he lived, and worked at it, and they both wanted it, he had her. Though he already knew that if this didn't work, he would never get over it. He couldn't take another heartbreak like the one with Valeria. It had taken him decades to get over it. Now though, he knew he was beyond that. He was over Valeria, well and truly. Now, he had someone better. Someone, he admitted, was a bizarre match, and yet Alyse was far better suited to him. Most importantly, with her love he felt whole again.

_Mom was right. _

* * *

Sitting at a desk actually felt strange. That was how Marcus Kane knew he had been in the field too long. Of course, they had _all_ been in the field too long. He was sick of war, tired, cold, and he missed Rachel and the boys. _What a waste of time and lives. _He sighed, kicked back, and sipped the first cup of really good coffee he'd had in a month and a half. The unit was back in North City, if only to reconnoiter with the Emerald Alchemist's unit and prepare for their mission behind enemy lines. A brief bit of leave first had definitely been in order. They didn't get it nearly enough; certainly not as much as anyone was technically supposed to.

He had just closed his eyes to catch a cat nap when someone knocked at the door. _So much for a moment's rest. _Naturally, leave for his unit did not include himself. "Get in here," he barked at the door. Anyone interrupting him had better have a good reason.

He supposed he should have been less surprise when Maes Mustang walked into the room, saluted, and then stood there. "Lieutenant Colonel Mustang, reporting, Sir."

Textbook perfect. Maes was clearly not happy with him… not at all. "At ease, Firebrand," he replied. ""Do I even need to ask what this is about?" He had a pretty good idea.

"I want to go on the mission to Buzcoul," Maes confirmed his theory. "There's no reason to keep me in North City any longer. I've been healed up for months and all the fighting's moved north. I'm not doing any good here!"

"That's not what the reports say," Kane pointed out patiently. "The hospital is thrilled with your work, Mustang. Is there something that hasn't been reported that I need to know about?"

"No, Sir." Maes was practically squirming in his skin though. Outwardly there was no sign, but Kane knew the man far too well by now to think otherwise.

"Then tell me, Lieutenant Colonel, why you should come on this critical mission?"

"Tell me why I shouldn't," Maes countered. "No offense, Sir, but this is bullshit. I'm much more use in a firefight than I am fixing _plumbing._ You know that. Keeping me here doesn't make any logistical sense, especially not during a war."

It was the argument Kane had been expecting. Especially when, less than five hours after they had gotten back into the city Sara had shown up in his office with her brother Ethan's concerns about Maes. Kane had _hoped_ that a little time off to cool down and get his head on straight would help Maes get things back in perspective and focus. He had also hoped it would quell some of his driving need to be up in the front action. He had seen that before. It tended to get people killed. Maes seemed more concerned with his own personal outcome in this than almost anything else; the exception being the safety of Amestris and his friends and family.

Kane just wished Maes worried a little more about himself. But if what he had heard was true, keeping Maes here hadn't done much good, and might be harmful if it went on much longer. "You have a point," he replied. "You're in."

"I ha- uh… oh." Maes had obviously been expecting some kind of further argument. He looked momentarily bewildered. "Thanks, Sir."

Kane didn't want to have that fight again. Not right now. He nodded. "You're welcome, Firebrand. Consider your plumbing days done for the moment and make sure you're ready to go with the others. I hope you haven't gone soft down here."

"In balmy North City, never," Maes snorted, but it was in more good humored spirits than he had heard out of Maes almost since the war began.

"Good. Prove it where it matters. Now, I was in the middle of something important."

"I'll leave you to it then." Maes saluted again and vacated.

With a sigh, Kane leaned back in the chair again and kicked up his feet. His eyes closed and he was soon in the middle of a very much needed nap.

* * *

If she was dreaming, Alyse never wanted to wake up. The whole afternoon had been a little surreal. Once the emotional rollercoaster of admitting their feelings was out of the way, she and Cal had spent most of the afternoon sitting on her bed, just talking. He had been astonished, and pleased, with the blackberry tarts she had brought, declaring them to be very much like the ones his mother made, and every bit as tasty. She might have doubted his sincerity except that, even after lunch, he ate three of them.

Cal's shoulder made a very nice pillow, and Alyse enjoyed the regular look of dumbfounded enjoyment on his face, like he kept expecting her to vanish too, and awaken to find that he was dreaming too.

Only they weren't. For a few blissful hours, they had time together. Tore had not come looking for them. Whatever that meant about his assumptions, Alyse was grateful for the private time. Cal's skittishness about being close to her seemed to simply fall away the longer she spent with his arm around her shoulder, her body tucked up next to his as they leaned back against the headboard; fully dressed, but that didn't seem to matter. There was a feeling of safety in Cal's embrace. Alyse always felt safe with him. Despite his reputation, he wasn't the scoundrel some people wanted him to be, and he always seemed to be there when she needed him, even when he tried not to.

"I'm a little worried," Cal admitted. "What's your family going to think? I mean, not so much Fullmetal's side. I'm pretty sure Ethan and Mrs. Elric already had a pretty good idea, and I admit I'm not sure what Aldon or Sara will think. Tore's been telling me we should get together almost since we left Central."

"He has?" Alyse looked up, startled.

"Like a broken record," Cal snickered. "Anytime he'd see one of your letters or I would write back he would bug me about it."

"I'll have to thank him," Alyse chuckled softly before thinking seriously about his question. "As for my family, I'm not entirely sure. I know my mother and Ren are supportive; they practically shoved me on the train up here."

She looked up so she could see Cal's expression. He looked surprised, and then relieved. "Well that's two people who won't want to kill me. I suppose that means your grandmother approves?"

Alyse did not tell him to relax. He would worry about it until his worries were proven to be groundless. "Grandma usually doesn't interfere with anyone's lives," Alyse chuckled, responding honestly. "However she has this way of …smiling. I suspect she doesn't mind, and I bet Will knows if Sara and Ethan do. How well do you know him?"

"We haven't been hanging out at bars if that's what you mean," Cal grinned. "This will be the first long mission I've been on with your brother. I guess if he doesn't like me he'll just sell me out to the Drachmans right?"

"Don't kid," Alyse poked him in the ribs with one finger, ignoring the twinge of fear in her stomach. "I forbid you from dying, do you understand me?"

"Yes ma'am," he replied, giving her shoulders a pleasant squeeze. "I guess the only one I'm really worried about is True Soul. I know he wasn't happy about it the last time we went out."

"He'll live," Alyse replied. Would he be thrilled? Of course not. Her father was never entirely happy with any of her boyfriends save…well… her family had approved of Vince until he broke up with her. "I think his biggest concern will be making sure I don't get hurt again. He's not much less protective than he used to be… he just bites his tongue better."

"I can't imagine him having much good to say about me," Cal admitted. "Not on a personal level."

"Well I've never heard any complaints about you as an officer," Alyse pointed out. She _had_ done a little asking around. "Or, frankly, as a boyfriend or lover from anyone willing to talk about you."

"You've been asking my… previous girlfriends… about me?" Cal looked shocked.

Alyse decided it was nice of him to put it delicately. She knew full well how casual and quick some of those relationships had been, if they could be called that. "A girl likes to be aware," she smiled. "For the most part, they were _very_ complimentary."

"Good to know." He seemed discomfited by this information more than reassured. "Though I'm not sure that's good information to share with your father."

"Daddy knows you were the one who saved me…" Alyse informed him gently. "When those drunks tried to attack me. He's worked with you for years, even if not closely. Besides, I'm not a kid, and I know what I want and what I'm getting into. None of the old reasons to argue against us going out still exist, or matter."

"It's been my experience that _I don't like him _is more than enough reason," Cal pointed out, his expression sobering.

Alyse could have kicked herself, but she didn't. As much as Cal said he had gotten over Valeria, that did not mean the lesson hard-learned didn't still sting. "That has never worked on me," she replied pointedly, turning so she could face him more directly. "Daddy has scared a couple of guys off, but they weren't man enough to stand up to him. I have never broken up with a guy because someone told me I had too."

"Not even me," Cal acknowledged, smiling weakly.

No, that had been her own choice, one she now regretted even though the Alyse from then would probably never have really understood Cal. "Well we spent months going out just fine before the war," she smiled. "So I'd say I'm fairly certain we're at least compatible enough to keep going out… and I definitely approve of your kissing."

"Funny how no one has ever actually complimented that particular skill of mine to my face," Cal laughed. "I guess maybe the other girls assumed I knew?"

Alyse kissed his cheek. "There is a certain assumption by most women that good looking boys who flirt around already know, or at least think they know, how good they are. Especially if they walk and talk as confident as you do." She nudged him in the shoulder.

"Maybe I deserve that then," Cal relaxed. "I guess I don't really need to worry about all this until the war's over… or I get stationed with your father somewhere."

"That might be best," Alyse agreed, grateful he had come to that conclusion on his own. "You have more important things to worry about."

Cal leaned over and kissed her softly. "Like coming back alive to a pretty girl?"

Alyse's heart fluttered. She could _definitely_ get used to having him around.


	25. Chapter 25

**March 8****th****, 1964**

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Sara asked Will quietly as they loaded one of the trucks they were going to be taking out to the drop off point for their mission. They were going to go as far around the Drachman line as they could manage, then drive up into the hills using back roads. From one of the small towns, they would be hoofing it down to Buzcoul and around to the supply depot they were going to be taking out. The warehouses had once belonged to a shipping company, but now they were full of munitions and military supplies the Drachmans had brought down. That was going to end… soon.

Will glanced over his shoulder and then turned around again. Yes, he had obviously seen. He shrugged. "I see my sister wishing one of my colleagues a safe return," he commented neutrally.

Behind them, Sara knew Alyse and Cal were still locked in each other's arms, kissing rather passionately. Oh what an interesting difference five days could make. A couple of days ago, all Alyse and Cal would do in public was make eyes at each other. Then they were holding hands. Now they were kissing only a few yards away and Sara wondered if her cousin was going to let Cal go, or vice versa. "So you're okay with it."

Will looked sideways at her. "I don't have a problem with Fischer, if that's what you're asking," he admitted quietly. "He's got a surprisingly clean rep if you ask around a bit, and I think he'd rather die than hurt my sister. Just don't tell him I approve… yet." He winked.

Sara chuckled and turned back to checking the supply list. "As long as you don't tell them I don't have plans to skin Cal the moment we get out of North City." Really, who could argue with the obvious attraction – and _affection _– blossoming between her cousin and the Whitewater Alchemist? She knew they had been hanging out, and the fact that Vince was not entirely dissimilar to Cal had not escaped Sara's attention when her cousin had started dating her previous beau. Besides, it was the least mopey she had seen Cal in years. Sara wasn't going to get her personal opinions involved this time; she was determined. "Assuming he hasn't done anything to Alyse."

"The first man to bed my sister, if they aren't married, is going to be castrated," Will nodded calmly. "And I'll take even bets as to whether my Dad or I get to the guy first."

"I bet Cal knows that," Sara pointed out. She was, surprisingly, not worried knowing Alyse's particular issues on the subject. There were times she was rather proud of her cousin's ability to stick to her guns on things. "You know, I think we should just let them have their space and let things develop as they will."

Will gave her a surprised look. "I thought you were against Cal having anything to do with Alyse."

"Several years ago," Sara nodded. "She was such a kid, and let's face it, he's not an innocent. But he's an honest guy and I've never seen him look at a girl the way he looks at Alyse. I swear he almost worships her."

"There is that," Will nodded. "Alyse is sure happy."

"So we don't kill him?" Sara chuckled.

Will grinned back. "Yeah, I'd say we let him live for now."

**March 10****th****, 1964**

The day and a half of driving through middle-of-nowhere countryside was uncomfortably tense. Not because of who was crammed into the back of the transport truck, but because of the constant worry about being found by Drachman scouts. Just because the route _should _be quiet did not mean that was any kind of guarantee. They stopped only to switch out drivers, so the Alchemists did their best to cat nap on the benches and floor of the truck, with only bedrolls for warmth and padding.

What Cal would have given for a more pleasing bed companion than a pile of dressed alchemists in blankets. Not that he objected to a little male bonding, but he still preferred a naked female form to Tore's rolling, Sky Fire's snoring, or Will's tendency to mumble if he got jostled too much. Lyssandra Fines and Sara bundled up under blankets at one end, leaving the boys to themselves. Not that Cal would have _dreamed_ of even sharing blankets with Sara again unless it was a life or death situation. Besides, the only woman to invade his dreams on the entire trip was the one he had spent the last few days rapturously dizzy over… Alyse. _Funny to be so wrapped up in the only girl I've been interested in and _not _slept with in…. too long. _

Being part of a real relationship… a _couple_… was not something he had ever been prepared to do again until Alyse refused to give up on him. It was so strange still, knowing there was someone out there who knew him, really did _know _him, and still loved him. She had given him her trust, her confidence, and was willing to risk her heart again for him. Given how long he had done his best to forget the stir of feelings the first time they had tried dating, it would have been unfair to them both to deny her.

"You know if you keep daydreaming about my sister you're going to get shot in the ass out there," Will snickered from where he sat across the way. "It looks like even the great cavalier isn't immune to Alyse's charms."

"A man would have to be dead," Cal countered with a shrug. "Just tell people my reputation is drastically overstated."

"I figured that," Will commented more evenly. "Otherwise Alyse wouldn't be with you now."

It was the first time Alyse's brother had brought it up. Cal had made a point of not doing so. The last thing they needed was anything resembling bad blood in the team on the mission. "So where do you stand?" He might as well get it over with.

Will blinked, apparently startled by the candor. Then he shrugged. "If Alyse trusts you, so do I. She's obviously in love with you. So we're cool… as long as you don't break her heart later," he smiled.

Cal smiled back. "Well that's the last thing I want to do, so on that we agree. I'm glad," he admitted. "I'd hate to do anything that would make things tough on her, and given how close your family is, I was concerned about friction."

He was glad they were sitting at the far end of the vehicle, near the back where the road sounds were loudest. He didn't want everyone else listening in. Not that they seemed to be anyway. Fines and Kane and Sara were all talking in one corner, the others were passed out on the benches, trying to nap.

"Dad's your only concern for now then," Will replied, relaxing. "I don't think Alyse has ever made the same mistake twice, so the rest of us are inclined to let her have her way. She always has before. So if Dad doesn't kill you, you're in the family."

Cal blinked. "We're just dating," he pointed out, suddenly nervous. He and Alyse hadn't discussed _anything _beyond that yet!

"You should see yourself," Will shook his head in amusement. "Sorry, man, I'll back off. I'm just saying… I know my sister."

Cal did too. If he was completely honest, he knew that Alyse wasn't looking for just another dating relationship, but then neither was he. Right now though, all they had talked about was surviving the war and moving forward from there. He would worry about what-ifs later.

* * *

The hike down into the Buzcoul area was made in silence. The alchemists wove through the trees and the rocks in pairs, keeping reasonably spread out so that they were less likely to all be spotted or caught. The depot they were supposed to hit was north of the city, and they were coming in from hills just to the east. It seemed like agony to Tore, who hated the slow going but bore it because he had no other choice.

He and Cal slipped down behind a boulder and then peered out, looking at the walls of the city and for any sign of Drachmans. There were definitely a few out patrolling, though mostly nearer the city walls. He was fairly certain if they were careful they could avoid them. The difficulty would be getting up the north road without being spotted. But then, what good was sending anyone up here if they couldn't do the job? Tore was sure they could.

At least, he was until they were at the point in their path closest to the city walls. His first clue that things had gone wrong was the truck full of Drachmans that came around a corner without warning from the edge of the forest and started shooting.

It happened too fast.

One moment they were moving along, and the next Tore heard rumbling with enough time to sent a lightning bolt in the Drachmans' direction before dodging. It was an all out fray in seconds. The shooting, the alchemy flying, Tore could barely see some of the others from time to time, working to take out the truck and the gunners, then another truck that rumbled up to reinforce the enemy.

Tore fought. Two men died… not him. He ran, he dodged, he feinted, and he sent bolts shooting into the growing group of Drachmans. He spotted the nearest get-away… the open northern gate of the city. Now there was a place to hide where they wouldn't dare just start shooting up the place. He turned, hoping to draw the Drachmans away from the others – only to draw their fire.

Searing agony ripped through his left shoulder. _Oh shit, I'm hit! _He kept moving, out of instinct more than anything else. The others were scattered; hide, _survive. _There was black at the edges of his vision as Tore briefly smacked into the side of a building. He staggered on, his right hand up over his shoulder. The blood was seeping past his hand, through his fingers. He could feel it despite not looking down. He was losing it fast, and the white-hot pain in his shoulder was agony. He needed to hide... he needed help. He was going to lose consciousness at this rate, but with the Drachmans around, there was almost no one on the street. Or maybe that was the hour. It was almost evening... right? His brain felt fuzzy.

Stumbling, he only half-caught himself with his hands as he fell into a snow-drift. The new, shooting pain made him cry out, though all he got for his suffering was a mouthful of icy, dirty snow. _Why do I have the feeling I've been here before... almost? _Eyes closed, he felt himself slipping, the cold seeping into his body. It would be so easy to just... fall asleep.

A soft hand touched his back, "Hey, you all right?"

The voice jarred him back to consciousness, at least partially. Groaning, Tore tried to push himself back out of the snow enough to blink in the falling dusk. At least, he was pretty sure that was why the snow was turning blue and orange where he didn't see the dark splotch his shoulder was leaving. He blinked several times before he focused on a pretty face with brown eyes framed by smooth brunette hair. "Better now," he chuckled weakly, then grimaced. "You're prettier than the Drachmans."

The girl's eyes widened at the sight of blood, "You're injured, why didn't you say so? Come on, my uncle's a doctor; he'll help out anyone who's hurt. Can you stand? You can't just stay out here you know."

She was a chatty one. Tore struggled to stand, pushing himself up with his good arm. "Yeah...I know," he replied. "Damn... lousy shots. You should get out of here." The Drachmans were surely looking for him, and the rest of the unit. Shit, what about Cal? Kieleigh? ... he hoped everyone was all right. "They're looking..." he cut off as he slipped trying to stand and barely caught himself. "Doctor huh?" Her words sank in. He needed treatment. He struggled to stand again. "Let's go."

"Steady there," the girl supported him with an arm. She was shorter than Tore, but pretty strong. "It's not too far to my uncle's place. You're lucky I saw a good friend while running some errands; I'm not usually out this late. We'll get you patched up in no time."

Tore grimaced again, but leaned willingly on the kind girl saving his neck. He leaned against her more heavily than he meant. "Thanks...." He forced the grimace into a lopsided, if pained, smile. "Didn't know snow angels came out... this late."

"Oh, stop that," the girl chided, a blush rising in her cheeks. "I'm no angel, I'm just can't stand to see someone hurt. At least now I have a good excuse for being late."

"So your friend's a bad excuse?" Tore asked as they started moving. His grin came a little more naturally. "What is it... boyfriend?"

"No!" the girl answered immediately. "Uncle just said to come right back! And for good reason," she added with a quick glance around the street.

"With those bastards around, he's right," Tore agreed, focusing on the conversation to keep himself moving. His left shoulder was agony, his uniform soaked with still-leaking blood, though he thought it might have slowed...maybe. He was looking forward to getting inside. He just hoped the Drachmans didn't follow his tracks. "I am such an idiot." If he had just been a little faster, or noticed the soldier taking aim a moment sooner....

"We all have our off days," the girl smiled. "Granted some are worse than others. You'll be all right, I'm sure of it. Just keep moving one step at a time, uh..." Her voice trailed off and she chuckled, "I just realized I don't know your name yet."

"Tore..." he replied simply, focused on taking each step, trying to keep his mind clear, her words at the front. He'd never been shot before. He wasn't enjoying the experience. He wasn't about to announce his full name - or rank - to the open air. Who knew who might be listening behind closed doors. "What about you?"

"Oh bother, I didn't tell you my name either," the girl blushed again, chuckling easily. "I'm Noelle, and you made it to my uncle's place." She opened a door and helped him inside. "Uncle? I have another patient for you!"

The wash of warm air was like a breath of new life after the numbing cold, but it made his head swim too. Tore wobbled, his grip on Noelle tightening.

Further inside the building, past the warm wood-lined entry way with cream colored walls, he heard a gruff voice. "Noelle? Thank goodness!" Footsteps in the hall and then a man of middle height, and middle build, with heavily white flecked brown hair thinning on top and an oval shaped face scowled deeply as he appeared. "Oh gracious, what a mess! Blasted Drachman bastards, shooting people in the street now are they?" He moved closer immediately. "Bring him to my workroom. I'll have a look at that gunshot wound." He turned, motioning for Tore and Noelle to follow without so much as a word to Tore.

Tore might have been offended if he hadn't been hurting so badly... and used to brusque doctors. "He always so abrupt?" He asked as they made their way down the hall.

"Pretty much," Noelle answered with a smile, continuing to support Tore as they made their way to the workroom. "He's just in 'business mode' right now, so nothing to worry about."

"Typical," Tore tried to smile. It came out as more of a grimace.

The doctor led them into a room that was pretty much what Tore had come to expect from a doctor's examination room; sterile, simple, and uninteresting save for the instruments he needed to do his work. "Put him here," he gestured to the bed. "You, sit down and hold still. You can explain why the Drachmans thought you were worth shooting at."

"Yes sir," Tore replied, not about to argue with the man who was going to patch him up.

"Did you want me to stick around, or do you want me to get Auntie, Uncle Horace?" Noelle asked as she helped Tore down to the bed.

"Tell Evelyn to put hot water on," Doctor Horace nodded as he pulled out a syringe and filled it with liquid.

Tore was grateful to be sitting, though his shoulder still burned. He leaned on his right hand, still bloodstained, so that he could take any pressure off his injury. He eyed the syringe, wondering what was in it.

"We'll have enough hot water for what you need and a cup of coffee afterward," Noelle smiled warmly as she exited the room.

Doctor Horace turned back to Tore with the syringe on a tray and gloved hands. "All right now, let's have a look at that wound."

Tore swallowed. "What's that, sir?"

"Antibiotics," the doctor replied as he approached and began to assist Tore in getting his blood-soaked shirt and coat off. It took several minutes. Tore grimaced but refused to cry out despite the pain of moving his shoulder. When he was stripped down to shirtless, he was grateful to just hold still. "At least you're not a whiny one," Doctor Horace nodded briefly. "As soon as Noelle returns with hot water we'll wash that shoulder off, disinfect it and see what we're working with. So."

So? Oh, right. Tore sighed. He might as well get that part over with. "I'm a State Alchemist," he explained simply. "My unit's on a mission. We got ambushed just outside of town."

"That means you have people worried about you," Noelle came back into the room with the hot water. "Here you go, Uncle. Good and hot."

"Good." Doctor Horace dipped a clean cloth in the steaming liquid and, with no further ado, began cleaning off Tore's shoulder.

"Nnnnnnngh." Tore wasn't going to scream. He tried to will himself to relax. It hurt less when the muscles weren't clenched. "Probably," he agreed with Noelle's assessment a minute later. "But if they made it out of the firefight all right, they should be on their way to the Drachman supply depot north of town." If they were doing what they were supposed to, than they wouldn't be looking for him right now.

Noelle moved to Tore's uninjured side and offered a hand, "If it's painful, it's ok to say so. Or you can squeeze my hand until the worst of it is over. And don't worry about hurting me, my hands are pretty tough."

Tore took her hand, and grinned impishly. "Feels pretty soft to me." He looked up at her pretty face. It was much better than looking at the Doctor, who was now beginning to prod at the wound in his shoulder.

Her face flushed as she rolled her eyes slightly, "I'm doing this as a favor to you, mister. If you'd prefer to embarrass yourself with screaming, go right ahead."

"If you prefer embarrassment, we could skip to kissing," Tore countered without missing a beat. Just to add to the response, he winked at her.

Noelle jerked her hand out of his and muttered, "Stupid soldiers, all thinking of nothing but kissing." She looked at her uncle. "I'll have that coffee ready for you when you're done. Auntie said she'd get out some pie, did you want some of that too?"

"Later," Doctor Horace replied, focused on the shoulder. He prodded at it again.

"OHMYSHII-" Tore bit down on his tongue to keep from cursing a storm in front of the girl as his shoulder felt like it had caught fire. His now empty hand clenched reflexively until it was white.

"I'll go help Auntie then," Noelle replied, already halfway out the door.

Tore said nothing, his thoughts turned away from the girl quickly.

"In good news," Doctor Horace replied a moment later as if he hadn't been listening to the exchange, "the bullet went straight through and left nothing inside, though I want to stitch both holes closed."

"That's the good news?" Tore asked, trying to unclench his jaw.

"The bad news is you've just irritated your primary nurse." That time he was sure he saw the doctor smile, however briefly.

"I wasn't trying to," Tore sighed. "Spirited, isn't she?" He had only replied in kind.

"Quite."

The room became quiet as Tore sat as still as he could while the doctor disinfected and stitched the holes in both sides of his shoulder. He didn't shout again, but it hurt a lot more than just about anything else he had ever felt. He relaxed a little when his shoulder was bandaged. It felt better. "Thanks."

Doctor Horace grunted. "If you can walk, follow me. I'll show you to a clean room you can rest in."

Tore shouldn't have been surprised that the doctor wasn't making him leave. He'd want to keep an eye on his patient. He stood up and followed the doctor slowly down the hallway and into a room with a bed, a chair, and a small bed stand. It was obviously the equivalent of a hospital room, but it looked more like someone's minimalistic guest room. He could live with that.

"You can rest in here," Doctor Horace said. "I'll have my wife bring you dinner in a bit. If you need anything just let us know. There are no other in-patients at the moment, so you won't disturb anyone."

"Good to know." Tore sat down on the bed. Now that the rush was over, he was definitely beginning to feel exhausted. Dinner sounded good if he was awake that long. "I really do appreciate this."

"Nice to know someone does," Doctor Horace sniffed, but once more Tore thought he might have looked pleased for a moment. "At least I know where to send the bill."

* * *

**  
Author's Note: **I would like to thank the delightful Purplefire for assisting with this chapter and allowing the use of one of her OCs from an elsewhere FMA RPG scene, Noelle!


	26. Chapter 26

**Still March 10****th****, 1964**

"Well that was a near disaster," Sara grumbled as she bandaged a thin bleeding gash on Kane's upper arm. It wasn't like they had been ambushed by the Drachmans – though it could have been if they had been tracking their progress through the countryside, despite the plain-clothes approach – but it was embarrassing to have possibly stumbled over the attack force on accident.

Or rather, if they had not gotten the notice of the Drachmans in the first place. She tried not to glare across the small clearing to where Cal, Maes, and Lyssandra Fines were working on a temporary camp for the night. There was no way to know for certain who had been spotted first, but Maes and Derrick had drawn the first fire and been the furthest out when it happened.

"We got out reasonably unscathed considering," Kane commented wryly, wincing as she tightened the bandage and considered it done. Then he began to roll down his shirt sleeve and reach for his warm coat. "Any sight of Shock?"

"None," Will commented, coming back through the trees. "The Drachmans have moved off. They brush threw them off. I'm beginning to think maybe they just thought they'd have fun with us because we looked suspicious." He looked annoyed. "Can you imagine if they do that to the civilians up here? Some poor farm kids trying to get into town to find relatives?" He dropped down next to Sara on a broken bit of stump. "I don't think they took prisoners, but there wasn't a body, or any signs of someone struggling. He could have gotten into the city. At least, I think so."

"Maybe," Cal commented as he turned the canvas that had been stuffed into his and the Emerald Alchemist's packs into a lean-to with ropes and rocks. Sara wasn't looking forward to cold weather camping, but it was the best they could do tonight. The Drachmans had to know there were alchemists hiding out in the hills now, but they didn't seem to dare coming to look for them just yet. "We were close enough to the gates he might have made a break for them."

Sara began to put the medical kit away. Other than Tore missing in action, there had been surprisingly few injuries. Kane's arm was the worst of the lot and he was still functional. Derrick had a solid knot on his knee from scrambling in the rocks, and Lyssandra was limping a little, but her ankle only appeared to have been mildly twisted. They were tired, sore, and more than a little shaken perhaps, but fine otherwise. _If we couldn't handle things like this, we'd be lousy State Alchemists. _

"Dinner's almost ready," Maes commented without much enthusiasm. He was sitting over a flat rock, heating military rations with sterno cans. They didn't want to risk a fire.

"Good," Kane stood and went over to join them. Sara stayed where she was next to Will. The entire clearing in which they were hiding out among the rock and pines was barely twenty feet across, and maybe that wide. "We'll eat, camp here for the night, and continue towards our objective in the morning."

"Won't they be guarding it even more now?" Derrick asked.

"If they realize that's our objective," Kane pointed out, sitting down again on the end of the fallen log that looked to have been not so long ago part of the tree whose stump Will occupied. "We're still a few hours from it. However yes, we should assume they will be on alert and looking for alchemical attacks, as well as trying to track us down when we break cover."

Sara wasn't looking forward to that, but there was really nothing to be done for it. They had to succeed in this mission as far as they could. Destroying the munitions depot would put a big dent in immediate Drachman movements. It would also deprive them of one solidified, well-established supply base. "How do we plan to come at it then?"

"We may have to change tactics," Kane admitted, picking up a stick and beginning to sketch a series of squares, the buildings presumably, and a line for the road and then marks that seemed to be for the mountains around them. "Scratch that. We'll have to shift tactics to take into account losing Shock."

"He might still be alive," Cal pointed out. "Is it worth taking the time to at least find out if he's dead before we write him off?"

Loyalty from Cal; that was one thing Sara had to admit she liked about her long-time colleague. Anyone he worked with, or genuinely cared about, could count on him. "If he's hiding and can get to us, he'll find us before tomorrow," Sara suggested. Tore was a much better woodsman now than he had been three years ago. They were also planning to keep watch all night to make sure the Drachmans didn't ambush them again. "If not, we can assume he is at least pinned down or wounded and will be safer if we finish the mission and come back for him." They would, of course, make an attempt to find him.

That seemed to mollify everyone, as Kane nodded. "We will locate him after we succeed in the mission. However, that does mean accounting for a lack of _bolts-from-heaven_ on our side," he actually chuckled slightly at the comment.

It did help. People relaxed a little and gathered around, sitting to discuss strategy and sleeping arrangements. Sara edged in a little closer, eyeing the drawn buildings set too far into the open for her tastes, and wondering just what they were going to have to do in order to remove them and come back alive. _Failure is not an option. Neither is death. Let's just hope the old Elric luck holds out on this one. _

**March 11****th****, 1964  
**  
Tore woke slowly. He was tired, his head ached, and his arm felt oddly muffled. He did not have to remember why. He hadn't slept deeply enough to forget. Anytime he moved, he woke from the discomfort. It had taken everything he had to strip down to his shorts the night before and lie down. He had slept on his back.  
It was morning. Weak sunlight peaked through the small window in the room, and he heard people moving about. He thought he heard kitchen sounds, and his stomach grumbled in response. Dinner last night had been tasty, but he hadn't been very hungry. Now, he was famished! He hoped they brought him something soon.

The door to the room opened slowly and Noelle entered, her body stiff and distaste written all over her face. She didn't even look Tore in the face as she muttered, "I've got breakfast for you and Uncle says you have to eat everything here. So can you get this over with so I can go do something else?"

Tore looked over at her. Well he had certainly seen more welcoming nurses. "Are you always so sour with patients?" He asked as he started to sit up. He grimaced, rolling away from her first so he could use his good shoulder. "Look, if I offended you yesterday I'm sorry. You looked like a woman capable of taking a little innocent jest."

Noelle put the tray of food down on a small bedside table with so much force that the dishes rattled. "You know, I might have been able to take that jest a couple of years ago. But, and I wish this was an exaggeration, every soldier I've run into since the Drachman army invaded has only wanted my body in some way. I'm not some camp whore and I don't appreciate you men assuming that I would enjoy nothing more than a few kisses."

"Well I don't appreciate the assumption that I was serious," Tore snorted as he managed to get upright. "I certainly never implied you were a whore. Even if you _were_ that's not automatically an insult. And no, before you sneer, I've never slept with one." He had to turn and put his legs over the bed to reach the food. He still had to reach across his body with his good arm to do it too. "But I feel sorry for anyone who feels that's their best way to make it in life." His voice softened as he picked up a fork and skewered a bite of pancake.

Noelle's eyes softened a little as she held her hand out, "Fork please. That just looks awkward."

Tore looked down at the bite on his fork as if considering it. Then he went ahead and handed it to her. It was probably her way of apologizing. "I really am sorry."

Noelle took the fork and sighed, still not making eye contact. "I'm sorry too. I'm really jumpy about this stuff." She offered a small smile, "I'll agree not to stab you with this fork if you'll agree not to joke about kissing?"

"Then I promise not to bring up kissing again unless I'm serious," Tore smiled genuinely. She _was_ pretty, but obviously light flirting was a bad idea at the moment. "I appreciate the not stabbing. Right now I wouldn't like to try fighting you off."

She chuckled a little as she offered another bite, "What do you think you are, injured or something?" She seemed to be trying to smooth things over. "So, you're a State Alchemist?"

Tore chewed the bite and swallowed before answering. "Yep. Shock Alchemist, Major Tore Closson, at your service," he grinned.

"Shock Alchemist?" Noelle raised her eyebrows as she speared another bite of pancakes for Tore. "Like static electricity type of shock? My first thought was what happens when you drag your feet across carpet and then touch someone. It doesn't seem like that would be very effective on the battle field."

"It is if you use a lightning bolt," Tore replied casually before biting willingly into the next chunk of food.

"That would be quite effective," Noelle agreed.

"It is," he replied, wishing that eating this way wasn't so slow! His stomach rumbled loudly in complaint.

Noelle snickered, then looked apologetic. "I'm going to slow for you, aren't I? Should I get you larger bites? I tend to give patients my size bites without even thinking about what they would prefer."

"You nibble like a doe," Tore chuckled. "Yes, please. Bigger bites would help, and you might as well order up another plate," he added, looking at the one on the table. "Cause I'll probably take at least twice what you've got here."

"At least I don't eat my food fast enough that I just swallow instead of tasting it," Noelle countered with a grin as she stabbed a section of pancakes more than twice the size of the last bite she had offered. "Is this more like it? Although, I have to wonder how you'll get it all in your mouth."

"I'll taste it when I'm not weak from hunger," Tore winked at her. "That's perfect." He opened his mouth and downed the chunk easily.

"I couldn't imagine eating that big a bite," Noelle chuckled. "You keep surprising me. You can shoot lightning bolts, eat huge bites of food, what's next? Purple bunnies out of a hat? You've shook the president's hand? Flowers grown in snow?"

"I haven't ever made a purple bunny," Tore replied casually. "As for the President, which one? I've met three." He kept eating.

"Cute, but I was only joking," Noelle shrugged. "Really though, a purple bunny wouldn't be that hard with alchemy, right?"

"Not a fake bunny," Tore replied. "Or a real one if you're just dying a rabbit. I wouldn't try making one whose fur grows purple though. Messing with life isn't a good idea." He ate another bite. "And I wasn't joking."

The fork paused in mid-air and Noelle giggled, "Promise to never ever tell my mother that you've met President Mustang. She was such a fan girl and said she cried when he announced his retirement. Dad got to the point of just sighing if his name was ever mentioned."

Tore almost choked on a bite of pancakes. "I promise," he snickered. "Fortunately Flame's nowhere near here right now. So he won't be showing up looking for me. Not sure who will to tell you the truth." He supposed it depended on who survived the mission.

"Is there someone you hope will come, or are you sure that the person you least want will come for you?" Noelle asked, grabbing the last bite of food on the plate.

"The person I _least_ want would be any Drachman," Tore pointed out, taking the bite and swallowing. Yes, he was definitely going to need seconds. "I'd be happy to see anyone from my unit, or the unit that came with us on this mission. Anyone who comes looking who knows my name is likely a friend." None of the Drachmans out there had any real information on him or reason to have identified him. "Though I hope the Sky Fire and Emerald Alchemists don't skin me for this." Of the two, Brigadier General Kane's name was certainly the more well known, given its prominence in the Aerugo War and his current position in charge of the majority of alchemist operations in Amestris. If anyone bothered to pay attention.

"No reason for commanding officers to skin their subordinates for getting injured," Noelle reasoned. "People get hurt all the time and this is a war. It's amazing everyone doesn't get injured with all the projectiles flying around." She held up the empty plate, "You said earlier that you'd want more when you were finished. You still holding to that statement?"

"More the getting separated and missing out on the mission than the injury," Tore confessed. "Though I should have seen him before he shot at me." Or so it certainly seemed as he thought back on what had happened. "I'm trouble to locate now. And yes please," he added with a firm nod. "I could definitely finish at least another plate. If… you have enough in the kitchen and you don't mind," he added with a sheepish smile.

"I'm sure we could spare another plate for seconds. Thirds however…" Noelle gave a grin that was half impish and half serious before exiting. She returned quickly with the plate full of food and a cup of coffee. "I hope you drink coffee, but Auntie assures me that most military men do. I wasn't sure how you liked it so it's just black for now. If you want though, I could go doctor this one."

"Doesn't everyone drink coffee?" Tore teased, eyeing the plate with interest. "Doctored huh? I don't suppose you've got anything a little… stronger to doctor it with?" He suspected she was thinking cream or sugar herself. What he wouldn't give for a drink right now though. It might help the constant throbbing of his head after getting it smacked yesterday.

"Well, I have known a few people who don't like it," Noelle shrugged. "My best friend refuses to drink it, says it stains her teeth and that stained teeth don't make a good impression on the boys. Noelle smiled a bit at the memory. "Stronger?" she asked arching an eyebrow. "If you want that kind of _stronger_, I'd suggest talking to Uncle. I don't know where he keeps his stash."

"What are the chances he'll say yes?" If he had to ask the Doc, Tore had a pretty good idea he knew what the answer was going to be.

"Not good," Noelle answered truthfully without hesitation. "He's been nursing the one bottle for awhile now." She suddenly cut off her sentence and color bloomed on her cheeks, "Just don't tell him that, please? I don't think he knows that I've noticed that he's been rationing his stash. It's been awhile since we've gotten new stuff, you know?"

Tore did not ask if he would be drinking it faster if it was more readily available. That seemed tasteless. "Then don't worry about it. I'm ready for the food," he added, gesturing with one hand towards the plate. "Oh, could you check my back left pants pocket?" If he couldn't have a drink, there was something around that wasn't a blood thinner that would take the edge off… if they weren't ruined.

"Do you want food or whatever's in your pocket more?" Noelle said in a light tone. "Wait a minute," she said without giving Tore a chance to answer. "I might have a solution!" She sliced off a huge bite of pancake. "Chew on that while I go check." She barely gave him time to take the bite before she stood and headed to the opposite corner of the room. It only took her a moment to fish through Tore's pocket. "I thought as much," she muttered, sounding disappointed. She held up the smashed and damp pack of cigarettes. "I hope this isn't what you're looking for, unless you're willing to suck on something that won't light."

Tore ignored the disappointment. It wasn't her business. He swallowed the large bite in his mouth. "Yes, it was," he sighed. So much for that idea. "Some of them might be salvageable if they dry out."

Noelle eyed the pack, "Doubtful. That skirmish you were in must have been rough for all of these to be smashed like this." She shook her head slightly, "I must really have your age off. I thought you were a bit young for a State Alchemist, but addicted to alcohol and cigarettes already? You going to ask for some weed next?"

Tore felt his temper flare up. "Now hold on a minute!" He growled. "Where do you get off making judgments on people? A shot in coffee doesn't make a man a drunk, and a smoke after getting _shot at _all day and watching guys get their heads blown off next to you seems to me a better way of dealing than some of the alternatives."

"Look, you work here as a nurse, right? Surely you've seen people die. Have you? Have you had them bleed to death all over you? Have you seen your friends, comrades, anyone, blown to bits so close you got their insides all over you?" He picked up the fork and stabbed it into his pancakes. "For your information I've been a State Alchemist since I was seventeen. I'll be nineteen next month." He stuffed a bite of pancakes into his mouth to keep himself from continuing his tirade.

Noelle was looking to the ground by the time he finished, tears at the corners of her eyes. "You think you're the only one who has it rough? You think I haven't had to deal with death? There was a horrible car accident last week just around the corner and the man we treated bled to death on the table, nothing we could do to save him. Or how about two weeks ago when Auntie and I made a house call to deliver a baby, only to deliver a stillborn? The mother went into hysterics, screaming about how we killed her son. Two days later, the four year old daughter Annika rings us saying, 'Mama has lots of blood and won't wake up.' We get there and find that the mother had cut her wrists, committed suicide. Auntie cleaned up while I had to explain to Annika and her two younger sisters how her Mama would not be waking up. Thank goodness the Khorkina's next door took in the girls, or I don't know what else we would have done with them, since the father was nowhere to be found. I know I'm no soldier, you've probably seen worse, but I've had nightmares full of blood for weeks now, so I think I'm beginning to know how to deal by this point" Tears were now rolling freely down her cheeks.

_Awwww shit._ Tore stared at her for a moment, stunned that such a stubborn, strong-willed woman had just burst into tears. He let her for a minute. "Are you mental?" He asked the question with surprising softness. "Or did you just want to pretend I didn't already say I was sure you knew what I was talking about?"

"No, I heard you, it just all spilled out," Noelle sniffled. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be doing this to you. I mean, you're the patient, I'm not supposed to be falling apart here. Fiddlesticks, I'm just messed up right now, this is so embarrassing." She kept scrubbing at her eyes.

Tore sighed. "It's all right," he replied. "Everyone's been through a lot lately."

"Right," Noelle took a deep breath, wiping the last of the tears away. "I really am sorry. What I said was out of line. I'm still working on my mouth not running away with me, not always with the best results though, as you've obviously seen. Did you want more help with the food, or I could just leave if you want."

"No, you don't have to leave," Tore managed a smile, trying to put things a little more at ease. He ought to be more grateful for her help anyway. "I'd rather have company… in case I need help," he admitted with a boyish grin. "These pancakes are amazing, by the way."

"Thank you," Noelle cheeks tinged pink and she finally smiled a little again. "I'm glad you like them. It's good to know that my cooking skills haven't gone away with all the crazy stuff going on."

"Not if these are a sample," he agreed, taking another big forkful. The second plate was going to be empty in the next minute at this rate.

Noelle grinned, "Pancakes aren't even the best thing I can make. We'll make sure you get some of the zucchini pie Auntie and I made later today. Don't be put off by the zucchini part though, you'll think you're eating apple pie. You an apple pie kind of guy?"

"Most are," Tore pointed out with a chuckle. "I love apple pie, but after the last few months I'll eat just about anything that isn't lukewarm porridge or burnt."

"Then maybe that's a good thing that came from getting injured," Noelle pointed out. "You finally get something edible for a change!"

"You won't hear me complaining," Tore assured her, polishing off the rest of the plate. "Alchemists get rations-and-a-half because of all the energy we use, but it still seems like nothing when the food's that bad."

"Hopefully we won't offer you anything near as horrible as your rations," Noelle said. "You sure you don't need any more help? I feel kind of funny just sitting here."

"You sure you're not looking for an excuse to get close to me?" Tore didn't mean to flirt, really, but the words slipped out anyway. He winced as soon as he said it. "Sorry… habit."

Noelle stiffened slightly, then burst out laughing, "Good grief, I've been a terror this morning, haven't I? It's not really fair that I get to blurt everything but you have to be careful with what you say. You said earlier that you're not serious, right? I'll just keep reminding myself that and hopefully I won't bite your head off again and serve it for dinner."

"There's an image," Tore chuckled, relieved she wasn't angry. "I don't think it would taste very good. It's just tough not to be complimentary to a pretty girl."

"You'd still compliment the girl who keeps snapping at you all morning?" Noelle asked, blushing.

"If she deserves it," Tore grinned. The pancake plate was completely clean now, and he was half way through his coffee. "I only give compliments if I mean them."

Noelle put her hands over her flaming cheeks, "Stop it, I'm blushing enough already." She looked pleased with the compliment though.

"I…. I'm not sure how," Tore admitted with a laugh. He set down the plate. He was still hungry, but he didn't want to push it. His stomach, however, had other ideas and continued to grumble. "You're the first girl in a while who's told me not to, besides Charisa Breda of course."

: "You mean the other girls actually like blushing until their face catches on fire?" Noelle tried to joke, then stopped suddenly. "You actually know Charisa Breda? I mean, know her, not just met her. I mean, you said that you've met the last three presidents and I don't want to assume again, since assuming has done nothing but get me in trouble today."

"Sure," Tore shrugged. "She's my best friend. We went to school together. We ah… we used to go out, but that was a while ago," he admitted sheepishly. "We're still friends though." He didn't want to go into the details of that however. It got too complicated!

"How do you know all these people," Noelle murmured with wonder. "I heard you, you went to school with Charisa Breda, but that's not even something anyone around here would even dream of. You haven't just met President Breda either, you actually know him. I can't even imagine seeing him in person, let alone having an intelligent conversation."

"I'm from Central," Tore shrugged. He barely remembered when he had found living with the Elrics unusual. "Most of the kids go to Central High, even the military brats. Not that I'd say my last conversation with General Breda was intelligent conversation either," he admitted. They had crossed paths since the day he and Charisa had gotten in trouble, but the conversations were brief and professional. "I guess it's just kind of normal now. I've been living with Fullmetal since I was eleven."

Noelle's jaw dropped, "You live with…" She cut herself off and gave an incredulous chuckle, "Are there any other Amestrian heros that you know personally? I feel like my shock meter is full to the brim so now will be the time to drop any more names. I don't think I could get more surprised that I am right now."

"Well you could just count the entire Elric family and everyone they know," Tore pointed out with a shrug. "I'm a State Alchemist, Noelle. If they live in Central and show up around military HQ, I probably know them, at least in passing."

"Well, I live in Buzcoul and went to the high school here, but that doesn't mean I know the mayor or his family. Most of the rich kids in town attend a private school so I don't have much opportunity to rub shoulders with them," Noelle pointed out with a smile. "Gosh, you must think I'm such a country hick by now."

"Not at all," Tore shook his head. "I spent a lot of time traveling a couple of years ago, and I've been out to Resembool a couple of times. I kind of like smaller towns. I was born in Central though, so I'm kind of used to both now I guess."

"I'd like to get out to Central some time," Noelle said softly. "I know I want to go definitely to visit, but maybe I could work in one of the hospitals too."

"We've got a good one," Tore replied. "You should definitely get down there sometime when this is over," he smiled. His stomach growled again. "I ah… don't suppose you've got anything else?"

Noelle considered the question for a moment before answering slowly, "Sure, I'll see what I can find. More coffee while I'm out scavenging up more food for you?"

"Yes, please," Tore nodded. He had the feeling it was the strongest beverage he was going to be allowed for a while. Well, it would have to do.

She was gone longer this time and when she returned, she looked a bit contrite. "Sorry, but this was all that was left," Noelle apologized, holding up a half-sized serving of pancakes. She gave a small smile, "At least there's plenty of coffee still."

"I can live with being jittery," Tore teased as she handed them over. "And thanks again for the pancakes. I look forward to your culinary expertise while I'm here."

"Don't think too highly of my cooking yet," Noelle smiled. Her stomach growled loudly.

Tore froze, fork halfway to his mouth. "Have you eaten?" He suddenly felt guilty.

"I, I had something earlier," Noelle stammered as she looked away.

"Obviously not enough." Tore put the fork down, ignoring his own stomach. It wasn't loud now, but it was still not full.

"Look, just eat it, ok? I've caused you enough trouble this morning and you need it more than I do and I really did have a few bites earlier…" she started to babble.

"Nope," Tore shook his head resolutely. "What position am I gonna be in if my nurse passes out from hunger? I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you swear you'll eat something else, then come in here and eat it with me, or that you eat those pancakes."

"You insist?" Noelle asked with a slight smile. She still looked embarrassed. "There isn't any other way to get you to eat those?"

"I insist," Tore couldn't help grinning. He would have crossed his arms if he could have used his left, the sling made his shoulder immobile.

Noelle looked uncertain for a moment more then she gave a nervous smile, "You want to split it? That way I feel better about being awful and I still get to eat?"

"Sure," Tore agreed, picking up the fork again. His conscience was assuaged for the moment. "It's been a while since I got to share a meal with a woman." Gah, he did it again!

Noelle chuckled as she moved closer to Tore "Your face is cute when you catch yourself flirting." She clapped a hand over her mouth.. "And saying things like that is likely to just encourage you to keep going, isn't it? Goodness, we make quite a pair right now."

Tore managed to stop himself from making a comment about maybe later too. Instead he took a bite of pancakes first. She was cute, and while they clashed some, that didn't mean she might not be a fun date. He already was certain though, that any questions in regards to the bedroom would get him slapped. "We do," he agreed simply after swallowing. That was, he surmised, the safest thing he could say at the moment!


	27. Chapter 27

**March 12****th****, 1964**

The best time to attack the supply depot was, without a doubt, dawn or dusk. When the light did funny things to distances and yet there were plenty of shadows. That was what they had decided during strategy meetings, and that fact had not changed. Arriving at their pre-determined location about an hour before dawn, that hour became their target time.

It was a simple plan. Spread out, attack in teams, destroy everything and get out again. The team situation however had changed with the Shock Alchemist missing. With nine alchemists they reshuffled things a little. Cal was reassigned to work with Polasky and Kieleigh Rennaux. The other teams consisted of Fines and Derrick Tringham, Sara and Will, and Maes and Marcus Kane.

Maes felt his heart pounding in his chest as they waited for the moment. He knew that it could have been either him or Tringham the Drachmans had spotted first; they had been the first to draw fire. While no one had commented, he still felt like they blamed him. Why not? He had screwed up before, and it was only a matter of time until he screwed up again. Or at least, he was sure they were thinking it. After all, wasn't he waiting for it to happen? He had talked Kane into letting him come, but what if it had been a mistake?

"Get ready."

The two whispered words were Maes' only warning before Kane set off the flaming streams of colored light for which he was so well known, popping and bursting all above the supply warehouses.

That was it! Following Kane over the rocks, Maes ran towards the depot buildings. They didn't have to get all the way up to them to do their jobs. That was good, since the guards would hardly let them walk right up!

Though a minute later Maes found himself reassessing his opinion as they reached the critical point, and he snapped his fingers and the air around them exploded into a series of small fireballs that flew directly through the windows of the closest warehouse. Inside light flared up almost immediately to show that things were definitely lighting up.

The sky fire continued to rain down; not flames per se, but still explosive. As they faded out and tumbled down onto the same warehouse they lit, again, and small explosions sounded; the roof went. The fire blazed higher.

Down the line, one warehouse began to crumble as its foundations were busted and torn away by large plant roots, and spikes of hardened crystal that Maes expected wasn't really diamond, but might as well be. Wind and light distracted the guards and drew their fire. To the other side, another warehouse simply exploded; definitely Rennaux's work. Maes was always impressed with her improvisational explosives. As if from nowhere, a gout of water sprayed up from the center of the building, whose roof was utterly gone, though the place wasn't burning. Instead, as it filled with water, Maes could just imagine the supplies getting soaked and ruined. Polasky was keeping guards off them.

Maes and Kane ran for the next –and last- warehouse, where Sara and Will should already be in position and set up. It was the largest. It also contained the majority of the ammunition and other weapons related items stored at this particular supply depot. Set closest to the road and most heavily guarded, Maes found himself gritting his teeth as he shot flames directly into the faces of charging Drachman soldiers as they stopped and attempted to take aim and fire on the alchemists, who dodged, attacked, and were practically invisible in the dawn light so recently shattered by the bright plumes of light that Kane produced.

Over all, if not for the fact that he really couldn't afford another major mistake, Maes would have been disappointed in how easily the mission went. Despite the firefight outside of Buzcoul, the guards up at the depot had been lax. Not that they were asleep at their posts, but they had clearly not been expecting the attack to come so soon, or possibly not at all.

"That's it!" Kane shouted as the fourth one not only caught fire quickly, but began to crumble and then exploded as the munitions inside lit!

They turned and retreated, leaving the Drachmans a scrambling mess.

Maes was panting hard and had a stitch in his side by the time he collapsed at the rendezvous point several minutes later. It was well back in the hills, and they could see the glow of the burning buildings, but the noise was no longer audible.

He and Kane arrived first. Maes looked over at his commanding officer and flashed him a smirk. "So, how'd we do, boss?"

Kane shook his head, panting some himself. "Well, I want to make sure everyone made it," he replied. "But so far I'd say that went off… explosively well."

"No puns from you!" Sara groaned as she and Will appeared through the trees and rocks. She collapsed beside dropped cross-legged a moment later, looking no less tired. "At least the job's done."

"Did we lose anyone?" Will asked.

"Not to my knowledge," Kane shook his head. "We'll know soon enough though."

And they did. Out of the now morning light eventually came Rennaux, Tringham, Polasky, Fischer, and Fines. Everyone looked tired, but no one looked injured.

"They were pretty unhappy," Cal admitted, grinning as they finished accounting their various tales and analysis of the raid not too much later. "They finally got around to shooting at me as I hit the rocks."

"Took them long enough," Maes grinned. "So, when do we head back?"

"In a few minutes," Kane replied. "We don't want to give them time to form up a proper search and find us. We'll head back to the meet up point with the truck." Then he looked at Fischer. "Whitewater, I want you to sneak into Buzcoul and do a little recon. Find out what happened to Shock, and then meet us back at the truck. Understood?"

Cal nodded, "Yes, Sir." From his expression, he was more than willing to take the assignment.

Maes hoped the kid was all right. "I'll go too," he offered. Cal might need the back up.

He felt familiar disappointment as Kane shook his head. "No, Mustang. Your face is too well known. This needs to be done as quietly and quickly as possible."

A good point, but it still stung. "Understood." They would head back to the truck, and then back to the lines, and he would just be grateful that his part in the mission had gone off without any problems. Maybe now, Kane would start trusting him again.

**March 13****th****, 1964**

A hot shower had never felt so good. Okay, so it probably had, but this one was his new favorite. Despite the awkwardness of bathing and not getting his bandaging too wet, Tore had managed to get himself scrubbed clean everywhere else, especially his hair, and to shave one handed. No mean trick that one either! He had been starting to look more than a little scruffy with nearly a week's growth. He felt good as he stood back in his little room, and removed the towel he had wrapped around his waist in order to finish drying off enough to pull on the shorts, loose sweat pants, and tank top that Doctor Horace had fished out from somewhere for him to wear. The clothing lay on the bed. Tore stood, facing halfway between the bed and the door as he looked in the small mirror hanging there to make sure he hadn't missed any spots shaving.

A light tap came on the door before it opened all the way and Noelle walked in with a couple of towels. "Tore, Auntie said you were going to take a shower, so you'd need…." Her sentence stopped. "Oh my gosh," she gasped, her face paling a split second before it flamed fiery red. She dropped the towels on the floor and dashed back out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Tore blinked, and barely had time to register that Noelle was there before she was gone. "Hey, wait!" What was her problem? He went to the door, rewrapping the towel around him for lack of anything better, and opened it. She had been moving pretty fast. How far had she gotten?

Noelle squeaked a bit when the door opened. She had not gotten far obviously since she was just outside the door, with a hand over her mouth. She averted her eyes quickly when she saw that Tore only had a towel, "I'm sorry, I should have waited for an answer before barging in, but the door was ajar, so I thought you were at least decent, and Auntie wanted me to bring you some towels, but I lost track of time, I should have gotten them to you earlier…" Her eyes seemed riveted to the floor.

So she was embarrassed at having walked in on him naked. Tore couldn't help chuckling. "Hey, it's no big deal. Relax. I appreciate the thought. I could use another towel. This one's pretty damp." He kept casual, after all it wasn't like he had anything a nurse, even in training, shouldn't already know about!

"Well, there are two on the floor now," Noelle said, risking a look in his direction. Her face was still beet red as she suddenly gave him a shove back towards the room. "Please go put something on so I can stop blushing!"

"I'm wearing a towel," Tore pointed out, grinning playfully. "Am I really that ugly?"

"No," Noelle squeaked, the blush deepening another shade. "But I'd prefer clothing as opposed to something that's likely to fall off if you make any sudden movements."

"That could make things interesting then," Tore admitted. "I'm not entirely sure I can get everything on with one arm. I can probably manage the shorts, but the rest," he shrugged. He was doing his best not to use the injured shoulder as Doctor Horace ordered. He needed it to heal quickly.

"If you can get on shorts, you can get on pants," Noelle countered, finally seeming to get her wits about her. "I can help you with the shirt, but I'm pretty sure you can handle pulling up a pair of sweatpants."

"Presuming they don't get caught on anything, and stay up long enough to get the waist tied," Tore replied. It wasn't quite as simple as it would seem. He supposed it was easier for girls on both accounts. They had hips, and nothing else to catch on. "I take it you're not willing to help out a patient then?" He asked that one with a straight face.

Noelle squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath, "If you're really serious, you need the help, then yes, I'll help you out."

"Much appreciated. Believe me, it's a little embarrassing not to be able to get dressed on my own," Tore replied. "Give me a minute and I should be able to at least get the shorts on." They had a more elastic waist and no need of a draw string. He already knew the pants were a little too big to stay up without it. He closed the door and did just that; sitting first to get it over his feet and up to his knees, and then standing. It was awkward, but eventually he had them on. "Okay, I'm decent," he called out when he was finished.

"A pair of shorts hardly makes you decent," Noelle said as she entered the room. It looked like she had composed herself during the time she waited outside. She picked up the pair of sweats, "Step in. So what were you planning to do if I hadn't, um, walked in on you? Sit around in shorts all day waiting for someone to walk in and offer a hand?"

"Wiggled around like a complete idiot probably," Tore chuckled, "Though that might have hurt a lot more." He stepped easily into the sweats, and then eyed her curiously. "Even as a nurse you've never seen a guy naked, have you?"

"No!" she answered quickly, her cheeks coloring again. She moved quickly to pull up the pants, "I suppose it could have been worse. My first could have been a wrinkly old man."

"Never wander into the men's locker room of a gymnasium by accident," Tore suggested, grinning. "You might blush enough to give yourself third degree burns."

"Haven't I already done enough of that?" Noelle replied before an impish grin crossed her face. "How tight do you need these?" she asked, quickly tightening the drawstrings.

"Just enough they don't fall off my hips," Tore commented. "There, that's good." It wasn't like he had any padding for them to rest on. "Thanks. Feel better?"

"Not yet," she grinned as she tightened the drawstrings more. "That should make doubly sure they don't go anywhere for awhile."

"By accident anyway," Tore chuckled. He might want to be able to relieve himself eventually! It was late morning, about evenly between breakfast and lunch.

She grabbed the tank top and brushed her hair out of her eyes where it had fallen, "Injured side first. I have to ask though, since I don't know if the opportunity will present itself again, are you ticklish?" She did not even wait for an answer and attacked his uninjured side.

"Oh crap...no!" Tore jumped sideways as her fingers hit, laughing even as he backed away scrambling. He wasn't overly ticklish, but when there was no warning it was always worse! "Please stop!" He bumped backwards into the wall and stopped hard, grimacing.

"Oh no!" Noelle exclaimed, leaping forward, all mirth vanishing. "Did you reinjure yourself? Gosh, I shouldn't have tickled you, I should have thought about how close we were to the wall!"

"It's okay," Tore managed through gritted teeth. Eyes closed, he stood there a moment, breathing deeply until the sudden pain ebbed back to a dull thumping. "Just a little sore. Really."

"Did you want to sit down on the bed?" Noelle asked, placing a hand on his arm.

Tore nodded, stepping forward before he opened his eyes...and almost stepping right into Noelle!

Noelle took in a short breath at their closeness, before closing the distance and brushing her lips against his.

Tore was startled; if only pleasantly so. After the past couple of days, given the constant banter, he had not expected this response! _Though given my history... maybe I should have. _Girls liked him. He knew that. He returned the kiss without a moment's hesitation, warm and willing and experienced. He preferred a woman's lips over a smoke or a drink any day anyway! His good hand came up to gently touch her soft cheek.

She broke the contact reluctantly, a blush rising to her cheeks. She gave an uncertain smile before commenting, "You're utterly distracting when you're half dressed..."

"Most people are," Tore countered with a quiet, slightly throaty tone. He was grateful for the shorts under the boxers for the subtlety they offered to his reaction. She was an amazing kisser. Having met quite a few, he would know! "You... you're distracting completely dressed."

Noelle chuckled a little, "I'm not trying to be distracting. You, I can spot from across the room. That's quite a talent you have."

"I'm not sure it's a talent," Tore replied modestly. "Though I'd be lying if I said girls usually ignore me or something like that."

"Oh," Noelle said biting her lip with uncertainty. "Um, you still need to sit down?"

"Eventually," Tore chuckled. "That was nice. But if you'd rather I sat down, I will."

She relaxed again a bit and smiled up at him, "I… liked it too. You're a good kisser."

Tore's heart thumped in his chest. He had to admit, it had been a while since he'd had as immediate a reaction to a woman beyond physical attraction. There were a lot of things he liked about Noelle. "Thanks." He smiled. What was he thinking though? He would be gone as soon as he could get out of here, and who knew what would happen next. "You are too."

"That's nice to know," Noelle grinned cheekily. "Quite a turnaround from the last time. Last guy I shared a kiss with called me all sorts of nice names that a lady shouldn't repeat."

"If a lady shouldn't repeat them, they can't be all that nice," Tore countered.

"I have to agree with you there," Noelle replied, before she sighed happily. "Thanks."

Tore stood there a moment longer, hesitating between the urge to kiss her again or to sit. "I wouldn't mind doing that again sometime..." he said finally."If you're interested I mean."

"I might be interested," Noelle smiled as she kissed Tore again.

Dangerous and beautiful. Tore returned the kiss a little stronger than before, letting himself get lost in it.

She responded in kind as she brought a hand up to his bare chest. When Noelle broke off the kiss, she was breathing heavily, "I think I got lost in that," she gasped, still trying to catch her breath.

Tore liked the feel of her hand there. He brought his good hand up on top of it. "Me too." He didn't move away. His heart was thumping. His breath was a little short. If she were willing he'd... did he dare press for anything more than a couple of relatively chaste kisses?

Noelle took a deep breath with a smile, "That was amazing. I haven't been kissed like that before."

"Then the guys didn't appreciate you enough," Tore breathed, keeping his face close to hers, his eyes looking steadily into the dark depths. "You're... really something else."

Noelle felt her face blush as she looked back to Tore with uncertainty. She bit her lip as she looked away, "You're… intoxicating, but… I can't…"

Tore shifted back a few inches to give her space. "It's all right." He smiled, to show her he wasn't offended. "If you don't want to do anything more than this, it's fine. I like _this._"

"You do?" Noelle let out a breath, visibly relaxing again. She chuckled a little, "I need to stop assuming what you'll say. I wasn't expecting that."

"What did you expect me to say?" Tore asked curiously. "That I'd rather drag you in a corner and sleep with you?"

"Remember the guy who called me all sorts of nasty names?" Noelle said, the blush still on her cheeks. "He was livid when I told him I wouldn't go all the way with him. Called me all sorts of choice names, left me without a ride home and never spoke to me again. Not that I minded, since he was such a jerk about everything."

"Sounds like a real loser," Tore smirked. "It's too bad you had to go through that. No, I have to admit, it wouldn't be my first, but there's more to life than sex. It's a very personal thing, obviously. I can't imagine forcing the issue. It wouldn't be fair."

"Are you for real?" Noelle asked; a note of wonder in her voice. "How on earth are you not snatched up yet?"

Now that was an uncomfortable and complicated question! "I kind of ruined my chance with my last serious girlfriend," he admitted simply. "I haven't found anyone else yet I connect with enough to try for anything long term." Uncomplicated truth was the best he could offer.

"I'm sorry," Noelle said, immediately looking contrite. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories. You know you don't have to answer everything I ask, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Tore smiled. "But you know... I like you. It's only fair that you know something about me, right? I mean, about that kind of stuff." She already had some of his family and social history. They had plenty of time to talk with him injured and hiding.

"Now that we've shared a kiss or two, it's fair that I get a peek into your love life?" Noelle asked with an impish grin. "Interesting. What information would I get if I kissed you again?"

"What do you want to know?" Tore countered.

Noelle grin turned cheeky, "How do you keep your lips so soft?"

That was not the question he had been looking expecting. He laughed. "Luke-warm bacon grease and coffee... it's amazing," he joked.

Noelle laughed along with him, "I hope you don't mean that you mix the two together. It sounds gross, but I may have to try it since your results are so amazing."

"They do kind of mix when you're wolfing down breakfast," Tore pointed out.

"Everything ends up mixed together when you eat since it all ends up in your stomach," Noelle laughed again. "At least, that's what my mom told me when I was little and refused to eat the casserole she'd made for dinner."

"That doesn't mean it tastes good going down," Tore snickered. "Some things definitely taste better than others." Noelle, for example, tasted great.

"You taste like hot water and soap right now," Noelle spoke before clapping a hand over her mouth. Color rose to her cheeks, "That just spilled out…"

"Yes it did," a gruff - and familiar - voice commented from the doorway. Tore glanced over at Doctor Horace. "I don't recall tasting being on your job description, Noelle. How long does it take to deliver towels?"

"Oh!" Noelle squeaked, nearly leaping away from Tore's side. Her face had turned scarlet as she stammered, "I, I'm sorry, I lost track of time, I'm going now!" She dashed out of the room with lightning speed.

Tore tried not to squirm as the doctor gave him a very direct, and rather considering, look. "I want to take a look at your arm again before lunch. Have a rest and drink more cold water. You look flushed."

Only a fool would have missed the double entendre. "Yes, sir." Tore replied, reminding himself of what he had failed to listen to earlier. He was behind enemy lines, in an occupied town, relying on the good will of these people to survive until he could get out of here. Getting distracted by a girl - no matter how attractive and interesting - was not his objective.

Doctor Horace said nothing more for the moment. He just nodded and left, closing the door firmly behind him.

**March 14****th****, 1964 **

It took more than a little ingenuity to get into North City unnoticed. Or rather, it didn't really. For Cal it was more a stroke of luck to find a farmer bringing what he had into town to sell: eggs, meat, and whatever else could be produced in March in a barren snowy wasteland. Cal had little trouble convincing the man to let him hitchhike in the back of his covered truck. The Drachmans apparently cared little about farmers coming in and out of town heading from any direction that was clearly not the war front. They searched it on the way in, but tucked away, Cal was completely missed in the cursory inspection. The Drachmans sounded, frankly, bored.

Cal crawled out of the truck in an alley way just off of one of the market streets. "Thanks," he commented to the driver as he helped carry a couple of crates in as a matter of gratitude. "You said you were heading back out this afternoon?"

The driver nodded. "I like to head out by about three o'clock and get home before it gets dark. If you need an out, be back by then. I won't be coming back this way for a month if I can help it."

"Understood. Thank you again." Cal hurried out of the alley and glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand. On it was written a list of the medical practices in Buzcoul. His first notion had been that if Tore were dead or injured, he or his body would likely be in one of those places. Or if he had been treated, they might know where he was. If not, than hopefully he would be able to locate him by some other means.

It turned out to be a long, fruitless morning. The main hospital had no record of anyone matching Tore's description, body or otherwise. Neither did either of the emergency clinics nearby. So he started looking in the smaller clinics. People were cautious, but more understanding when they realized he really was just looking for an injured comrade and was definitely _not_ a Drachman sympathizer. Still, no luck.

After a hasty lunch in one of the cafes, Cal continued his search. There were only two places left on his list. He looked at the name the driver had scribbled down. Doctor Horace Hahn. The man apparently had his own small clinic not too far a walk from the north town gate. It was very small, but that didn't mean much. The location meant he probably should have paid more attention to it earlier. But it was at the very bottom of the list; almost as an afterthought.

The clinic turned out to be a two-story building on the corner of a small side street that backed onto one of the few large rocky outcroppings that had never been removed when the city was built. It was at the end of such a block row; a faded building of natural wood-brown with pale yellow paint. Not feeling particularly hopeful, Cal knocked on the door.

It took several seconds, but the door opened to reveal a middle-aged man in a white lab coat. The doctor, certainly. "Doctor Hahn?" Cal addressed him.

"That's me," the doctor nodded. "Do you need something looked at?"

"Actually, I'm looking for a friend," Cal explained quietly. "I have reason to think he's injured. May I come in?" It would be easier to explain out of public eyes and ears. The occasional Drachman patrols in the city made him nervous.

"What's your name?" The doctor asked warily as he did step aside.

"Calvin Fischer."

Was that recognition in the doctor's eyes? "Yes, come in then, Mister Fischer."

Cal stepped through the door frame and the doctor closed the door behind him. "If you recognize my name, then I suspect you know who I'm looking for," he commented, standing in the entry.

Doctor Hahn nodded. "If I don't miss my guess, State Alchemist, you're here looking for Tore Closson, who has been in my care for a few days now."

Relief flooded through Cal. If nothing else, Tore was alive. "Can I see him?"

"No reason why not," the doctor replied with a slight shrug. "I expected to be hearing from someone, especially after the news of the depot going up got here ahead of you."

Cal was not surprised that the news had traveled fast. In this case, it was a good thing. A successful Amestrian strike should be publicized as much as possible.

The Doctor stopped outside a door. "He's in here. I'll leave you to your conversation, and I expect you'll want to leave soon. Just come find me before you do. I have other patients to tend until then" Then he headed further on down the hallway.

Cal watched him vanish around a corner, then turned and knocked.

* * *

Tore leaned against his good arm, braced against the wall just below Noelle's head level, as he kissed her. If he had had his preference, their impromptu make-out session would be happening on the bed, but with his shoulder immobilized for his own good, her back to a wall and him close in front worked more than well enough.

Noelle returned the kiss willingly, one hand coming up behind Tore's head, touching his hair. She reluctantly broke off the kiss moments later and smiled, "Well, this isn't exactly getting laundry folded. And for a guy with an injured shoulder, you're pretty quick."

"It's a gift," Tore chuckled without moving, "Lots of practice moving quickly too. I mean, if I have to dodge bullets, catching you should be only mildly difficult, right?"

Noelle grinned, "What if I wanted to be caught?" She didn't even wait for an answer, but pulled his head forward and kissed him again.

Tore did not resist. Instead he responded eagerly, his chest brushing lightly against hers.

"Well, I can see you're fine."

Tore blinked. No way…. He broke off and turned his head over his good shoulder. "Well, I can see your timing hasn't improved," he replied glibly as he looked at Cal standing in the doorway. "Don't you ever knock?"

"I did," Cal replied. "You didn't respond."

Noelle's face was bright red as she looked from Tore to the newcomer in the doorway. "Are you Cal?"

Cal chuckled. "So I'm infamous already. The doctor told me Tore was injured, but he must not be particularly bad off."

"Doctor Horace exaggerates," Tore replied as he straightened up. The fun was over either way. "I heard the mission succeeded. Is everyone all right?"

"No major injuries, no losses," Cal assured him. "They're waiting for us and I've got a ride for us out of town, but only if we're back at his truck in the next hour."

"So you're leaving?" Noelle whispered. "I mean, I knew you would be, but... I didn't think it'd be this fast."

Tore grimaced, looking back at Noelle. "I know," he replied softly, feeling oddly torn. He'd known her such a short time, but he'd known he would have to go. "But I don't really have a choice. I'm sorry."

"I'll ah… give you a minute." The door clicked shut again, and Tore was grateful.

"I know you don't have a choice," Noelle grabbed him after the door clicked shut into a fierce hug. "I've really enjoyed the last several days, and I was an idiot thinking they could last. I just… I'm…" She gave up trying to speak and kissed him again.

Tore kissed her back, though he didn't let himself linger again. Leaving was already harder than he wanted it to be. "I'll be back sometime probably," he pointed out with a cocky grin. "We have to come back to Buzcoul eventually if we're _escorting_ the Drachmans back to the border don't we?"

Noelle smiled back, "I look forward to that. Oh!" She seemed to have suddenly inspiration as she opened the small bed side table drawer and scribbled hastily on a piece of paper that she found inside. "Here," she said thrusting a small sheet into Tore's good hand. "If you want to… I mean, you don't have to, I know you're going to be running around like crazy with the war and all and nothing will get through unless the Drachmans are driven back…" She bit her lip to stop babbling.

Tore grasped the scrap in his hand. He didn't have to ask what it contained. Her behavior made that clear. "I can't promise," he admitted. "I haven't had much time. But after…" No, he _couldn't_ make promises. He smiled again. "Don't worry about me, okay? Take care of yourself. I'm going to be really pissed if we come back through and I find out you did something dumb like try and take on the Drachmans by yourself just to get me back here." He winked at her.

She giggled a little, "I'll whack some sense into them with a frying pan; think it'll work?"

"Only on the first three," Tore replied. He didn't even really have time to change. He was dressed, and the clothes he'd gotten shot in were useless anyway. They could be replaced. He had to go. "I don't suppose I could borrow… well; I guess I can't promise to return them… a coat and hat from someone?" In the cold he would need them, and they would make him blend in with the locals.

"Of course," Noelle nodded, as she opened the door to the room. Tore followed her out into the hallway. Cal was nowhere in sight.

Noelle led him to a coat closet near the door. She quickly had him outfitted in a long coat and hat that covered most of his hair. Almost as a last thought, she threw a light blue scarf around his neck with a smile, "It might be March, but it's still cold out there. Take that too. Unless you think the color is too girly for you."

"It's blue," Tore pointed out. "Why would it be girly?"

"Because it's mine," she pointed out, kissing him. "Take care of yourself and don't make me take a frying pan to those Drachmans!"

Hers? Tore would have answered sooner if she hadn't occupied his mouth. "I will," he promised when their lips parted.

She grinned bravely, "Don't have too much fun throwing lightning bolts, okay?"

"That might be asking a bit much," Cal quipped as he joined them. Doctor Horace was with him.

"Yeah, well some things never change," Tore grinned back. He had removed the sling. He couldn't wear it under the coat anyway. He'd just have to take it easy.

"I'm all right," Tore replied. He didn't dare kiss her again in front of her uncle. He stepped back and looked at Cal. "We should go." He looked at the doctor next. "Thank you, sir."

"Don't worry about it," Doctor Horace replied. "Just don't undo what healing you've done and I'll be content."

When they got outside, Cal chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Tore asked.

"What the doctor said," Cal replied enigmatically.

Tore was sure he was missing some joke. "Just let me in on what I'm missing."

"He said don't worry about it," Cal repeated. He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. "I'm supposed to make sure your bill gets back to Central so when this is over he can get paid for patching you up."

Tore looked at him a moment then laughed as well. "Smart guy." The doctor deserved every last sen too. Tore hoped they would have a chance to make sure he got it.


	28. Chapter 28

**March 23****rd****, 1964**

"This feels kind of weird," Aldon admitted as he shouldered his pack and waited for his mother to join him.

"Invading Briggs or going on a military secret mission with your mother?" She smiled at him as she picked up her own bag. Winry hoped her son would relax a little. Things were going to be rough at times, almost assuredly, but the purpose of this particular mission was not to engage in major combat; just to destroy things.

"Both," Aldon nodded as they left the room and headed downstairs. "Not that I mind you being there," he added with an abashed smile. "I've gotten used to getting shot at while I work on projects, and working on a team, but now we're invading a formerly impenetrable fortress, now overrun by enemies….to destroy the inner-workings I used to help maintain." For that brief, blissful year and a half that he and Cassie had lived at Briggs, with Ollie and Kit and their other friends, he had learned how to build all sorts of things and improve his designs. Now, he was going to destroy, to some extent, his own work. "I just hope we find people still alive."

Winry placed a hand on her son's shoulder. "I'm sure we will. Ollie was always resourceful, and they're survivors at Briggs. If they've made it this long, I'm sure we'll find plenty of folks ready to help us when we get to the fort. Though I'm nervous too," she admitted. "It's been a long time since I've done something like this."

"Not that long," Aldon teased, his expression brightening.

Winry winked. "You still had one son."

"Okay…so maybe it has been a while," Aldon laughed.

"Have you heard from home recently?" Winry couldn't help asking as they crossed the street and walked the couple of blocks to where they were to meet the trucks. They would take them from the little town just behind the current front lines out into the wilderness, and winding up to Briggs on obscure back roads. Winry had come up from North City two days before to meet the rest of the team there.

"Got a letter yesterday," Aldon nodded. "Long, but they always are. I don't think Cassie can tell me everything that's going on without at least half a page for each boy."

Winry understood that feeling. "And what does she say about each boy?"

"Little Edward's growing like a weed," Aldon began his litany on one of his favorite subjects. Good. He would hopefully forget about being nervous for a bit. "Walking now, and he's talking a little too. She says his favorite words right now are 'doggy' 'brothers' and 'no no mine!'"

"Ian and Urey can't seem to agree on how to keep their room clean or decorated or anything lately. Urey's still a bookworm, but Ian's picked up on sports even more than before. Cassie says he's always outside lately; running around, playing at games with the other kids, or dragging the rest of his brothers into practicing with him."

"What sports?" Winry asked curiously.

"Baseball, soccer, anything he can do even decently," Aldon grinned proudly. "He's quite an athlete really. Apparently he's also in the play they're doing in the school this spring. He's got a speaking part."

"An actor too, how multi-talented." Winry chuckled, but couldn't help feeling the same pride in hearing about the accomplishments of her grandsons.

Aldon nodded. "Not that he's the only special one. Cassie says Urey scores nothing but top marks in school this year so far. He's likely to finish the books in Amestrian and history before the end of the year. So the teacher says she'll let him start on the next grade's work and just go at his own pace."

"Reichart's been doing more paintings with Cassie. She says he's really got a natural eye and his technique is improving. She's had him working with watercolors mostly, but she thinks he's about ready to try oils. He's also been helping out at the clinic after school sometimes." Which made sense, given Winry knew that the second son was interested in medicine already.

"And Coran?"

At that, Aldon's expression slipped slightly, though the smile was back in a moment. "He's still convinced he's got to take care of everyone else. Cassie says that's about all he does anymore. He gets up in the morning and helps make everyone breakfast, then afterwards makes sure the others have done their homework. He nags them about chores, though he's apparently doing his own. Then he helps with dinner and getting everyone herded into their rooms on time."

"What does he do for himself?" Winry wasn't sure she needed to ask though. That behavior sounded familiar.

"She says he's kept my shop spotless, but he hasn't touched any of the projects we were working on," Aldon admitted as he stopped outside the trucks and they waited for the others to finish loading stuff so they could load theirs. "He says he's waiting for me to come back so we can do it together. That's what he said in his letter too," he added. "He sent his own, as usual. The envelopes are starting to look like they hold books instead of personal correspondence."

Winry smiled. "Well they certainly look like books. Coran has turned into quite the serious and devoted brother hasn't he? He sounds like your father."

"I can see that," Aldon grinned. "I can just see him bossing Uncle Al around and making sure he got to bed and got things done even if he didn't need the bossing."

"Oh Alphonse gave as good as he got," Winry remembered those days fondly. Their turn came and she handed her pack over to the soldier already on the truck. Aldon hefted his up himself, then offered her a hand up. She followed easily, refusing to seem weak or _old_. She was perfectly fit and capable, thank you very much!

"I bet he did," Aldon sat down and Winry sat down beside him at the end of a bench. This was just one truck full of soldiers. There were two trucks for the mission, each carrying ten people; all of them soldiers, munitions experts, or engineers. There was also a unit of alchemists – most of whom Winry knew only in passing – assigned to the group. "Coran's just proving he's like the rest of the family. He hates staying behind, but he'll do his duty."

"He's just more patient than some of us," Winry pointed out. Under them, the truck roared to life, and the bench began to vibrate. "Even if that isn't much sometimes."

"That's the truth," Aldon said. "I just feel bad. He can't come, and he shouldn't, but he's also at a tough time in life for most kids and I'm here."

"And worrying about it is only going to give you premature wrinkles and a stomach ache," Winry teased. "Coran is not going to turn into a rebellious teenager and run off with a girl while you're gone. What's really the worst that could happen?"

Aldon's responding chuckle was accompanied by a weak smile. "I don't know. I just hope he's better at keeping his head on his shoulders than I was. Frankly, I'd be happy if he continued to ignore girls till he was twenty… at least."

"Keep dreaming," Winry shook her head. "If he's anything like you than maybe you'll get lucky and he'll find them frustrating and an unwanted distraction longer than you did."

"I'd rather not be a grandfather before I'm forty," Aldon agreed with a vehement nod.

"Good," Winry agreed. She had to admit, needling her son on this was pretty amusing. No wonder Edward enjoyed it. "Because I am _far_ too young to be a great-grandmother yet."

"You've got that right, Mom."

Winry gave in and gave him a quick hug with one arm. "I knew we let you live for a reason."

**March 25****th****, 1964**

In less than five minutes, the entire front of the Drachman line was going to be buried under several tons of mud and rock. At least, that was the idea if this plan went off the way it was supposed to. Not that Alphonse had any reason to think it might fail. While the western front had been successfully pushing but fighting hard, and on skimpy rations, the eastern front was a bit different.

With plenty of fresh supplies coming up from Eastern command, their units had been well supplied, and their part of the mountains was a bit wetter, but not as biting cold, as the upper-west area where Al knew Edward had been stationed. Now, with the spring rains dumping in once again and the mountain thaw going according to pace – which was to say, barely – was the perfect time to make a final push against the Drachmans on this end. They had been driven steadily back – slower because of the rock-and-gully riddled terrain – to this point, and with bridges gone, alchemists gone. Every chimera that came their way had been summarily slaughtered. The Drachmans were running out of options if they wanted to keep pressing. If they were smart, they would retreat and meet back up with their main forces.

"If they were smart, they would have retreated months ago."

The comment came so much on the heels of Al's thoughts, that he almost asked Roy if he was reading his mind. Instead he nodded in agreement. "Well then their stupidity deserves what it gets," he commented, running through the plan one last time in his head. There were some new elements to this one, though the same tactics had worked over and over again so far. This time, the Drachmans would not be expecting what they got.

"Let's hope history does not say the same of us," Alex Armstrong commented from the other side of him. "Are you certain you can do this, Alphonse?"

"No sweat," Al replied, sounding fully confident and, funny enough, he felt that way too. "Guiding a mudslide can't be that difficult."

"It's not the same as moving a suit of armor," Roy pointed out; not the first time he had voiced this particular objection. "Mud doesn't have arms or legs or empty eye slots."

"I've put my soul in other inanimate objects too," Al pointed out. "And in this case, I don't have to move the mud, just take it over long enough to move it the way we want and make sure it hits the right target." The last thing they wanted was for the slide to get out of control and hit the wrong army. "Besides, I've practiced with other items, and the transmutation should last long enough to finish the mission." It lasted for several minutes, and in the end, he was whole and complete. Not that he used that particular talent much anymore; but lately it had come in very useful. This would be his first time being part of something quite like this however.

"Let's hope so," Armstrong nodded.

They needed to make this too costly for the Drachmans to keep pushing. Today's goal was to convince them that this was too costly. "Okay. Here I go." Al closed his eyes and began the transmutation.

It was, indeed, a bizarre sensation to be not quite solid. Al was used to the feeling of being two places at once; his body still where it was, seeing, moving, capable of talking and reacting. Still though, he was used to putting himself into objects with a defined shape. In the misty, drippy afternoon he felt a small part of himself slipping, sliding, and waiting for the downpour that was going to come from the productivity of two other alchemists to give the already thick muck the shove it needed to go tearing down the mountainside and drown a good chunk of the Drachman encampment.

"Will it work?" Roy asked, though it sounded distant as he focused.

"I think so," Al replied somewhere outside of himself. "Give the signal." He was aware, still distantly, of how quickly his body was soaked as the air above them seemed to split, and the heavens burst with rain. It was kind of a strange sensation as the rain hit the muck. He felt slick, but thick and sludgy; runny in spots, and cold on top as the water ran and plunked into him. Over all, it was a rather disturbing sensation. He couldn't really _feel_ any more than he had as armor, but his human body was cold and soaked even in its coat, and the strange bending and moving of the _body_ of muck made for an odd dichotomy.  
It came in a rush; the hill giving way, his entire being sliding and slipping and bouncing as he began to tumble sideways. He felt his body lurch, and he clung to control of his temporary housing. Time to _steer; _slowly he took control, correcting moves, avoiding rocks, choosing turns that took him _away _from the Amestrian line as he picked up speed, hurtling forward. It was exhilarating! Almost like sledding… but without the sled and no fear of falling off.

He heard Drachman voices, and before he knew it he was upon them, passing them, shoving into them and around and through and over…knocking them down in such a rush he could barely register one before there was another. Frantic shouts, screams, muffled gasps. They were lumps like the rocks; felt yet not felt. He was pushing them, shoving them- there was resistance even without a sense of touch; just as he'd had when he lived inside a suit of armor.

The screams turned to terror when the mud, seemingly with life of its own, banked sharply and Al headed back through the camp…searching out the alchemists and what chimeras might be left…slurping over everything in his wake as he bowled over tents, soldiers, trucks, anything in his way.  
Behind him, under him, inside him…. He could feel them struggling, wriggling like a muscle spasm under numb skin after an injury. Some gasped and half inhaled bits of the mud that was and was not Alphonse…and expired. One by one they died. Some struggled free, but many didn't. They were only subtle in Al's consciousness however, as he pushed on, eager. He could hear them…. Chimeras!

There, tents with cages, dozens of not-yet used monstrosities, none of them even close to human. The first and second level alchemists he had gotten used to seeing – those who had sheets with circles drawn for them, and those who could draw their own, but only one and were fairly weak – were what made up most of the alchemists in the camp.

Mud-Al mowed them down. Searching…finding… there, in that larger tent. He shoved right through the doors without waiting for an invitation. _I've got you! _A small, wizened looking old man with pens, inks, and plenty of paper. This one had the look Al would have associated with an alchemist, even though he looked almost like a wizard out of an old children's story.

And there Al slammed past and into the stone wall that had been the back of that section of the encampment, his swath of destruction, the channel the mud had followed, was filled and done. There was nowhere else to go. Now what?

_Alphonse. _

Who?

"Al! True Soul. Snap out of it!"

He was shaking. No wait, someone was shaking him. Not strung out him, real him.

Al blinked and opened his eyes, separating himself from the bit of his soul still floating around down in the muck. It would return in time. He was drenched, and his body was shaking. The rain had become a natural downpour; icy and unyielding. "It's…done," he managed through chattering teeth.

"Good." Roy bent down and offered him an arm. Armstrong had, apparently, transmuted an umbrella out of something, and held it over them both now. "Get up. The shooting along the line's over."

Al shivered, remembering the odd sensation of people dying _inside _of him. _It's just a little like being a philosopher's stone, _he mused to himself. _Only dead bodies aren't living souls. _No, they were much creepier. He stood, and followed Mustang and Armstrong back away from the muck. The other alchemists were gone; their jobs accomplished.

In the long, mucky walk back, Al caught himself sneezing more than once. _Well if the worst our side gets out of this is a few head colds, it's got to be worth it. _"So it worked."

"Perfectly," Roy nodded grimly. "They were screaming about _demon mud_. Your performance was very convincing."

Al couldn't help chuckling. "Well it didn't help that the main road formed a perfect channel. I ended up smashing right into the alchemists' end of camp, smothered all of them, I think, and the chimeras. At least, any of them that was there instead of on the line." He didn't know how many that was. "I'd say there were at least…fifteen?"

"Really?" Roy looked startled, then pleased. "Excellent. Command will be glad to hear it. Let's report."

"Right." Al hoped it didn't take long. He was tired, physically and emotionally, and he really wanted to get into dry clothes and get something to eat. While the soul transference was a surprisingly easy transmutation, the rest of the alchemical energy needed to control the mudflow – not his usual medium- had been highly taxing. "What I wouldn't give for a hot shower."

"Don't expect it often," Roy offered with a twist of a smile, "But if you bed maybe I'll boost the heat on the camp shower water."

Away from the city, they did have a shower tent, with gas heaters that heated the pitiful trickle of water that came out – at least if you didn't want it cold. "As long as it doesn't mean sharing shower space," Al quipped in return.

Roy snickered. "No thank you. I can stand outside. Inside is a pleasure I only share with a particularly lovely sniper."

The banter was enjoyable. It helped put the rest of what had just happened out of Al's mind. "Thank goodness."

**April 2****nd****, 1964  
**

Edward was not expecting a reception committee when he stepped off the train in North City again, this time without having to wonder when he would get shipped back west. Of course, they wouldn't be in the city long either. Soon enough he was sure his unit – what remained of it – would be heading to join the rest of the front to the north.

So it was a pleasant surprise to see Ethan and Alyse standing under an umbrella in the falling early evening drizzle. "Here I thought everyone had abandoned me," he chuckled as he stepped down. Fletcher and Finn weren't far behind him.

"A few of us are still stationed here," Ethan chuckled, giving him a brief hug. "You want me to carry your pack?"

"No, I'm good." Edward didn't really care one way or the other, but he didn't feel like handing it over now. It seemed silly after the hard work of the last few months. Still, he appreciated the offer. He could see gentle concern in his son's eyes. _He really has turned into a doctor. _"Ports don't bug me much," he replied with a confident grin. "Maybe I've toughed up some, but after this winter, the rain doesn't seem nearly as bad."

"For my hand either," Ethan admitted, relaxing ever so slightly.

"Can we chit-chat out of this weather?" Alyse asked, though she came forward and hugged him too. "It's good to see you, Uncle Edward."

"You too," Ed smiled. He had heard that Alyse had come north. The news had been in Winry's last letter. It hurt that he had missed her and Aldon leaving on their mission, but there was nothing for it now but to trust them to do their best, and worry himself into an ulcer. "Let's drop this stuff off and hit the mess. I'm starving." He glanced over at Finn and Fletcher. "You want to join us?"

"No thanks, Fullmetal, sir," Finn shook his head. "I'm going to crash, I think."

"Fletch?"

"I think I'm going to go see if I can find my daughter," Fletcher replied. "I heard her unit might be on leave right now. If so, she should be around here somewhere."

"That's great." Ed turned back to his son and niece. "Let's go then."

The room seemed empty without Winry, or most of what little stuff she had brought north, taking up residence. Ed was grateful for the heater in the building though. He almost hated having to go back out in the cold. "So, food."

"Dinner's just starting in the mess building," Ethan assured him with a smile. "And I'm off duty tonight, so we don't have to rush."

"Good," Ed chuckled. "Because I'm not leaving till they're out of food or I'm stuffed, whichever comes first."

Alyse shook her head in amusement. "There are other people eating. You won't be allowed to eat everything."

"That doesn't mean his statement is any less true," Ethan grinned. "They could run out before he's full, or he could decide he's had enough while others are still eating. Just get used to it, Alyse. If you haven't yet, you might as well. Alchemists are all alike in some things."

"Is there a particular reason she should?" Edward asked curiously. After all, it wasn't like Alyse hadn't been helping cook Elric family meals for years. She knew all about alchemists; she _was_ one herself, though in a very different manner.

His first clue that he had stumbled upon juicy news was the blush on his niece's cheeks.

Ethan grinned wickedly. "My dear cousin has chosen to pursue another alchemist. I've merely been reminding her of just how difficult and disagreeable we are."

"Oh stop that," Alyse laughed, nudging Ethan with an elbow, though she did not look particularly displeased.

"Well that _is _news," Ed looked between them curiously. "Who is the new guy?" It was almost a definite he knew the man, unless it was one of the most recent recruits. If then, he'd at least know the name and a face.

"He's not… new, exactly," Alyse replied with slight hesitation. "It's Calvin."

"Fischer?" For a moment, Ed could do nothing but stop dead and stare at them both. Ethan looked startled, and Alyse worried… as if she was afraid he would disapprove. Both expressions were too funny. He broke and laughed. "I spent months in combat with that rat and he never said a word. Does Tore know?"

"He's the one who told me," Ethan admitted with a sheepish grin.

"I'll kill him," Ed snorted and shook his head. "I'm the last person to know anything!" Or maybe not. "Al doesn't know, does he?" He would bet a week's pay his brother didn't.

"Not yet," Alyse replied as they started moving again. It was too cold and wet to just stand there. "There was nothing until I got here and his unit transferred back this way," she explained. "We've been friends for a while and, well…" Her cheeks flushed again.

"Nothing to be ashamed of," Ed smiled a little more gently. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised either." He remembered that Cal had saved Alyse in a dark alley one night, and had taken their breakup years back pretty hard. A rare thing for Fischer, who never seemed interested in settling down. He was a bit rough around the edges, but he reminded Ed of Jean Havoc from time to time. Maybe that was why he found it easy to put up with and work with the Whitewater Alchemist. "As long as he treats you right."

"You think she was royalty," Ethan chuckled. "You should have seen them, Dad. It was so cute it was sickening."

"Ethan!"

Ed snickered. "I'm sure I'll see soon enough, but that particular description matches most every couple in our family… present company included," he gave his son a pointed look. Ethan and Lia could rot flowers for sweetness.

"Yeah, I know," Ethan grinned, not even remotely ashamed; a change that had happened only since his marriage. Amazing what that did for a guy's self-confidence. "Doesn't mean I can't comment."

"True enough," Ed grinned. He and Winry certainly weren't any better, and after this long, he hoped they never had to deal again with the rough times; not between each other. Though if any girl in their family got treated like a princess, it was ironically Alyse more than even Ren… who was one. The waft of food distracted him as they entered the building that housed the mess. "Oh that's nice." He picked up his pace.

Behind him he heard Ethan. "See what I mean?"

"Oh hush, Ethan."

Ed chuckled. It was always nice to be back among family.


	29. Chapter 29

**April 3****rd****, 1964**

There was something exhilarating, and yet extraordinarily dull, about driving for days into enemy controlled territory that was so oddly familiar. Odd, only in that it was Amestrian soil. It was not a road Aldon had been on before, since he had taken the main train to and from Central to North City and up to Briggs. Not that he hadn't explored all over the area while they had lived up there. The several days of winding through back roads ever closer to Briggs by a horribly circuitous route started to wear on him quickly. He wanted to arrive! Now that they were finally going to Briggs he wanted to be there, find out who was alive, blow things sky-high, and get gone.  
Never had he missed Cassie and the kids so much as during the drive towards Briggs. He and Cassie had gone there over a decade ago; young, in love, a little giddy with freedom. They had left married and expecting Coran; still young, still in love, but with a better sense of the world. Briggs had been good to them, despite its harshness. They had visited a couple of times since, though Ollie and Kit had never been able to come visit them in Resembool. They couldn't both get the time off at once usually, though they kept in touch.

"You're pensive tonight," his mother commented as she sat down next to him in a chair in the living room of the empty house they had _rented_ from a small town they were passing through one night. The room was currently crowded with a good number of the people on the mission so they were hardly alone. The lights were on, there was a fire in the fireplace, and someone had gotten a few bottles of beer somewhere in town and they were making the circle. There wasn't enough for everyone to have one to themselves.

It was such an interesting lot, mixing the engineers in with the soldiers and alchemists… and his mother. She was also, he had noticed soon, the only woman on the mission. "I'm usually pensive," he replied with a smile and a shrug. "Just the usual ponderings."

"Well you think too much," Perry Faulkner, one of the other engineers from his unit, snickered as he shoved a beer in his hand. "Even for one of us."

"Gee thanks," Aldon snickered, and took a polite sip before handing it back. "What about you? Always moaning about your girl back home."

"Hey, I've got a really worry there," Perry laughed, sitting down across the small coffee table from them. "Someone could try and steal her away before I get home and propose."

"So you're saying I don't have to worry about someone trying to poach on my lovely, young wife?" Aldon called him on it with a smirk. Cassie was _highly_ desirable in his opinion!

"Sure am," Perry replied. "You've got five boys right? Having _seen_ the photos – ad nauseum I might add – to prove she's hot, most guys are going to assume she's pretty devoted to you. What's the point of going after a woman like that? Especially if it'd saddle you with someone else's five kids grown enough to know what's going on." He stopped there and took a drink.

All very good points. "Lucky me then," Aldon grinned. "The only men in the village that try to cut in at dances are the old men who say she looks like their favorite granddaughter."

Winry chuckled. "They always say that."

"Oh," Perry looked embarrassed, as if he hadn't really been paying attention. "You want some, Mrs. Elric?" He offered her a drink.

"No thank you," Winry shook her head and declined with a polite smile.

"I think there's tea going in the kitchen," Aldon commented then. "You want some, Mom?" He looked at her, and briefly contemplated how weird it was to have this conversation with his mother in a war zone.

"Thank you, Aldon," she smiled up thankfully. "I would love a cup of tea."

Aldon wouldn't mind one himself. "I'll get it." He stood up and headed for the kitchen as he heard his mother ask Perry more about himself. Questions Aldon already knew the answer to. He knew half the guys here already and, he knew, by the end of the mission he would probably know every one of them a little bit; and miss any they lost.  
_  
When this is over, I'm never leaving my family again. _

**April 5****th****, 1964**

Winry looked through the binoculars the Brigadier General running the mission – a forty year old man by the name of Vernon Larkin – held up for her. Through them, she could see well the formerly impenetrable wall of Briggs. On this side, it still looked wholly intact. By now, she suspected they had repaired most of the damage on the other side. "I can't imagine trying to approach anywhere along there," she commented. They were parked way back in the hills amongst the trees to the south-east. Beyond them was nothing but a wide flat expanse leading all the way to the Fort.

"That's why we aren't," Larkin commented. "Our entrance is over there." He gestured to their right, where the Fort vanished into the mountainside. "The entrance is a door inside a cave up in those hills. The tunnel leads down into the rocks, and eventually to a door that runs right into the fort itself."

Winry tracked his finger with the binoculars, and could just barely make out, though it was far from a road, a jagged section of rocks that looked like it could be climbed, if barely. A bit of water trickling down it declared it a frozen waterfall, now thawing out, however much it did, for the spring. "So that's what we're climbing at night." It looked pretty treacherous.

"It's safe enough if you know the way," Lieutenant Robbs – one of those who had escaped Briggs by this very passage – commented. "Just too visible in daylight to patrols; especially on the approach. The climbing part is really only a couple of hours. After that there's a rough trail up to the cave." They would be leaving the trucks hidden.

"Everyone should be ready to go right after dark," Larkin commented. Behind them, Winry could hear the men stirring. "It will take an hour to walk to those mountains, despite how close it looks, two to scale, and another one to reach the cave. That's if we make our best possible time."

No wonder so few people had tried or managed to escape. Without a vehicle, it was a frigid day and a half walk to the nearest small village over the ridge. The one – Aldon had told her on the drive up – Cassie had been on her way back from when she and the other girls had gotten caught in the blizzard the day they found out she was pregnant with Coran.

Winry's own memories of Briggs were not so long-lived. The last time she had approached those gates she had been heavily pregnant with Sara. The last time she had left them, she had carried her daughter in her arms, and travelled home to Central to help nurse Edward back to health. Her memories were not all bad ones; but she had never particularly wanted to visit this wasteland again; especially not after Drachma. At least, she mused, she was getting fairly good at getting around in cold weather.

* * *

The night trek up to the cave was an arduous, tense hike. It was a cloudy night – like most – which was good, since it meant there was no distinct moonlight to give them away. However, that also made it difficult to see. They could not use flashlights or anything that might mark them out in the dark landscape. So they strung out, keeping close enough together to see the person ahead of them.

Winry breathed easier, if only for a moment, when they found the rock face and Lieutenant Robbs showed them the beginning of their climb. They weren't lost. They would find shelter and be able to hide before daybreak. At least, that was still the objective.

If there was anything Winry refused to admit, it was that there was anything she couldn't do now that she could do when she was thirty. Not that she had much rock climbing experience to begin with, but she would not let the steep hike daunt or slow her. Breathing deeply, ignoring the stitch that formed in her side half way up, Winry scrambled along, between Aldon and another of the engineers, keeping up so that no one would feel the need to offer the _old lady _on the trip any assistance.

The rocks were cold and rough, even under her gloves. Color she didn't know, and while she wasn't climbing straight up most of the time, it certainly seemed like it if she tried to look up or down. Really though, after the seeming water-fall, the trail turned into more of a twisty bed, then a trail zigzagging up into the rocks. She did not dare to relax until they moved away from the edge of the precipice, inland. Once they were no longer visible from the area below, she felt her heart beat a little easier. It helped that the trail also started to level out a little, at least comparatively.

They stopped finally for a break, which consisted of standing around, panting and warm for the moment, even in the cold night air; drinking warm water from canteens that had been stuffed under coats. It was not a long stop; they didn't want to stiffen up, get cold, or lose too much time.

Winry pushed on. The best she could tell, it was nearing midnight, if not already passed. They should be near their destination… right?

About five minutes later, a crack in the rock beside them resolved itself out of the darkness.

"Here we are," Robbs grinned, looking at the fissure with a satisfied smile. It was barely big enough for a man to squish through. Winry was sure she would fit, if snugly. She had no idea how anyone larger might get out, but she supposed it was possible if they contorted themselves.

It took nearly ten minutes to get everyone through the entrance and into the cave. It was only there, in the pitch black, that someone finally turned on a flashlight. Then another person dug out his, and soon several had popped on. Not that it did anything for warmth, but it was comforting! They took another short break before continuing on. Winry stuck close near Aldon as they wended their way down into the mountain. It was only slightly treacherous in places, a combination of carved tunnel and natural caverns. The tunnels were tight, but Winry found them homey, even when she had to duck occasionally to avoid a stalactite. At least they were homey in comparison to the open caverns that seemed to stretch out beyond them, swallowing the light from their flashlights as if it were nothing. Those places made her feel small and alone, even with the rest of the team. Get lost in one of those, and someone might never find you.

The temperature grew slightly warmer, and she guessed they must be honestly underground, possibly below even the top layers of Briggs. Winry had never been so happy to see a slab-metal door. When they came around a turn she almost cheered. Behind her, someone else did give a whoop.

"All right, everyone quiet," Robbs commented from the front of the line. "Through this door is another tunnel, but it comes out at the bottom level of Briggs in the back of the industrial areas. It's actual a part of the fort that's not used anymore. Not since the machinery was upgraded back practically at the turn of the century." He chuckled. "There's nothing particularly functional there anymore so it's used for storage for the mostly obsolete parts that are still needed on occasion. That's where our refugees should be in hiding, and where we will be basing our operations. I want everyone one to be quiet and on their _best_ behavior."

Something that shouldn't bear saying, but often did. Winry nodded with the rest of them, now more eager to go forward. Not just to get out of the oppressive darkness, but to find the people they had come to help. Finally they could do something useful.

The door opened with an audible creak that made Winry cringe. She kept reminding herself that they were not likely to be heard by anyone dangerous. The Drachmans had, reportedly, not been down as far as this section of the Fort, despite their extensive sweeps. It was old, obsolete, and had been mostly blocked off. Apparently that had been further encouraged to keep them from being found. Though it made Winry wonder how they were sneaking in fresh supplies, for they had to be to survive. _A very risky survival. _

They walked for several minutes before they stopped at another door about half way down the long corridor. It was the first door they came to, though there appeared to be several more if they continued on. Robbs stopped and knocked in what appeared to be a rather complex pattern.

Winry was pretty sure she could copy it if she heard it one more time. She stood, waiting. Then there was a voice on the other side of the door. "Identification."

"It's Robbs," he replied. "I came back through the pass; I've brought reinforcements."

There was a moment's pause. "Who's with you?"

Aldon pushed past her then, and Winry noticed a bemused look on her son's face. "It's me Ollie," he replied. "Now let us in before I tell everyone here about the porcupine incident."

Aldon got a few funny looks, but the bolt shot back almost immediately and the door swung open.

Standing there, a bit ragged, scruffy, and underfed, stood a man Winry recognized after only a moment.

Ollie Larson looked past Robbs with a nod and then grinned broadly. "Don! You bastard, what took you so long to visit?" He came forward and he and Aldon exchanged a brief bone-crunching hug.

Aldon was grinning when they backed up. "The invitation must have got lost in the mail," he quipped. "Damn I'm glad you're alive."

"Me too," Ollie replied, looking around at all of them. His eyes lit on Winry and widened a moment. "Mrs. Elric?"

"We're a rather unorthodox rescue mission," Winry smiled. "How are you, Ollie?"

"Surviving." His expression returned to one more serious and to the point. "Come in," he gestured for them to follow him through the door. As soon as they were all inside the room, he closed it and shot home four bolts and two chains. There was nothing in the small room into which they were crowded, but Ollie led them into another short hallway and then another, larger room, which held boxes stacked against three walls, and a conference table with a handful of beat up chairs. "They stored all kinds of things down here that weren't in use anymore," he commented as he motioned for the Brigadier General, Robbs, and whoever else wanted to take a seat. "I'll let the others know you're here. We did get your last intelligence message that a team would be sent, but it had been long enough we weren't sure if you were actually coming."

When he left the room, Winry looked at the table and chairs more closely. They looked like they had been down here since _she _was a child if the style was any indication. The dim light coming from the one light bulb in the ceiling was grim. The walls were gray concrete and so was the floor. It was, fortunately, that unexpected warmth that came from being deeper within the earth still, or she knew it would have been far too cold. "How dismal."

"That describes Briggs most of the time," Robbs commented. "I was down here three months before I got out. We used to sneak out in small groups, then pairs when they started catching folks. They never found how we were getting out though, thank goodness. But there was no way we could get everyone out. Not when the entire Drachman army was parked outside, or when it was winter."

"Neither of which is quite the case at this moment," Winry acknowledged. Drachma was spread out all over the place now, and the weather was just warm enough to consider moving women, children, perhaps sick. They would get them out if they could, but their main mission had to come first.

Three men came back with Ollie, none of whom Winry recognized. They turned out to be one of the old senior foremen for fort operations, one of the long-time boiler and pipe crew heads, and a retired Colonel who had never left Briggs. Together they made up the leaders of the little hidden cell that remained deep down here.

"How many of you are left?" Larkin asked when they had sat down around the table. Winry had been offered a chair, and had accepted, too tired to turn down hospitality. It was late. She was a little surprised that they hadn't all been asleep.

"About a hundred," Colonel Taygh replied with a sigh. "The rest have gone, or been captured. Most of the folks working to keep Briggs running right now are under such close watch that they're still prisoners, even though they sleep in their own beds. About half of us down here are women or children. The families were the ones who fled first."

Unsurprisingly. "So you're prepared to help with the plan," Larkin replied. "The one outlined in our last correspondence."

Taygh nodded. "We are. Everyone is aware that when this is done we will be fleeing Briggs or, if they really want to stay, they will have to try and blend back in to the rest of the population or stay hidden indefinitely. We have blueprints of every area we think we can hit, and are ready and at your command, Brigadier General."

"Excellent," Larkin nodded. "But not tonight," he added with a gentler smile. "I think everyone could use some rest first."

"Indeed," the old foreman, a man named Orrens, nodded. "You'll all be shown to sleeping quarters and provided drinking water and wash water. We do have an old janitor's area down here that has a sink and two toilets. So there's often a line," he winked, "But they're functional. We'll also provide breakfast in the morning, so don't worry your heads about it."

As soon as the meeting was over, Ollie approached Winry and Aldon. "I've got you guys," he smiled. "There's a room next to ours for you two. It's been empty for a while, but it's got beds."

"It's got to be better than the back of a truck," Aldon pointed out with a tired smile of his own. "I guess Kit and the kids are asleep?"

"Sam and Millie are," Ollie replied. "Kit's up. I think she'd be glad to see friendly faces."

"I'd be glad to see more myself," Aldon nodded, then looked her way.

Tired as she was, Winry had never actually met Ollie's wife, though Aldon and Cassie had plenty of stories and pictures. "Sure," she agreed.

They went down another couple of hallways, as everyone was dispersed into available sleep spaced carved out of storage rooms. Ollie and Kit's _apartment_ turned out to be two rooms with an open doorway between them; a curtain hung across the space to separate their room from the kids'. It was as bare and meager as Winry could have expected. There was an old mattress on the floor in one corner with sheets and a thick comforter and old pillows. Milk crates in a corner made for shelves and surface space. There was an old lamp for light, clothes folded in the crates, and a pitcher of water and two chipped plastic cups. There were a few other odds and ends, but it was clear the family had fled in a hurry, and lived in relative poverty for quite some time. Still, the place was clean.

If Ollie looked scruffy and lean, his wife looked little better, though Winry suspected it had to do as much with a clearly advancing pregnancy as much as the rough living. She was a pretty woman, but her face looked thinner and more worn than in the pictures, and her thick red hair flatter, pulled back in a simple ponytail. Still, she beamed and hugged Aldon tightly. "It's good to see you Don! How are Cassie and the swarm?"

Aldon chuckled. "Busy as ever. It's good to see you, Kit. You're radiant as ever."

"Blame him," she stepped back and gave her husband a playful nudge in the ribs with one elbow.

"How are you?" Aldon asked more seriously. He looked as concerned as Winry felt.

"Not bad," she replied. "Now don't go looking all worried there, Don. We've got a doctor down here with us, and I know as much about it as anyone."

"I wasn't claiming you didn't," Aldon assured her, her spunkiness apparently reassuring. "I'm just not good with deliveries," he joked. "Warn me, okay?"

"We've got a couple of months till that yet," Ollie replied, looking relieved by that fact. "By then I hope we'll be out of here."

"We should be," Winry commented. "And leaving the Drachmans sorry we were here."

"Good," Kit's smile turned fiercely grim. "I'll never forgive them for what they've done. Sorry," she shook her head. "I'm tired. I swear I'm not normally vindictive."

Ollie gave her a gentle squeeze around the shoulders. "Get some sleep, hon. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Winry and Aldon preceded Ollie out. Then he turned and showed them the next room, which was similarly arrayed, with two beds, a couple of empty stacked boxes to serve as cubbies for stuff, and a blanket hung across one corner to use for privacy.

"How's she really?" Winry asked Ollie as Aldon set their packs on the floor between the beds.

Ollie sighed. "Doc says the baby's fine, but it's really doing a number on her. Rationing's tight, and even though she's getting part of mine, I worry."

"We'll get you all out of here, man," Aldon replied as he turned. "You can come to Resembool and spend some time with us. I know Cassie would love it if you stayed."

"It sounds nice," Ollie admitted. "Once we get out of this, I think we'll take you up on that." From his expression it sounded like a long-faded dream. Winry's heart went out to them; to all of them.

Ollie bid them good night, and as Winry snuggled into bed a little later, the family was very much on her thoughts. "How old are their children now?" she asked.

Aldon, sprawled out in the other bed on his back, glanced in her direction. "Sam's six now I think, and Millie's two."

"Those poor kids." Winry tried to imagine living down here for over a year at that age; no sunshine, no place to play and laugh and run around. It was quiet down here; no one spoke loudly. A two year old… Millie probably didn't remember anything else.

"At least they're all alive," Aldon replied. "And I'm not leaving here until we get them out alive." There was grim determination in his voice; the same determination Winry had heard so often in Edward's when he had his mind absolutely set on something. There was no alternative; there would be no failure. He _would _see it done.  
Winry turned off the little lamp and closed her eyes. Right now, that fierceness in her son was oddly reassuring. "Of course we will."

**April 5****th****, 1964**

Morning came far too quickly. Aldon woke with aching arms, legs, back… anything and everything used in last night's climbing expedition done on little sleep. He was startled out of drowsiness when he blinked opened his eyes in the lamp light and found himself looking into a curious little face surrounded by a frizz of blonde curls.

Millie Larson giggled in delight and ran out of the room.

"Adorable little imp," Aldon grumbled, smiling anyway, as he sat up. His mother, he noticed, was already up and dressed, currently brushing out her long blond hair, damp from washing, which fell loose at the moment. "I'm not late for anything am I?"

"No, not at all," Winry assured him as she picked up a hair clip and easily swept her hair up and out of the way in one of the styles she seemed to prefer most. It was oddly amusing that something as familiar as his mother's hair should be reassuring given the situation. "Not unless it's late for standing in the shower line. It will be breakfast time soon."

"How do you know?" He asked as he slipped out of bed and dug through his bag for clean clothes.

"The adorable imp and her brother informed me," Winry chuckled. "They were very happy to tell me anything I could possibly want to know about down here."

Millie scurried back in the open doorway. "See. 'Wake!" She pointed at Aldon.

"I see," Kit commented with a chuckle, peeking in. "I hope she isn't bothering anyone."

"Not a bit," Aldon grinned, grateful he had slept in sweats and a tank top. "She's as lovely and nosy as her mother."

The two-edged compliment had the effect he hoped. Kit wrinkled her nose at him – what she always did instead of sticking out her tongue – but smiled. "And if I weren't so nosy you'd still be courting your lovely wife," she teased with a wink.

Aldon saw the flicker of wondering amusement in his mother's eye, and was almost amazed that he didn't blush. He really didn't particularly want his mother to know any more about certain elements of his life, no matter how far in the past, than she already did. "We can debate that when Cassie's with us to defend her part of the equation," he smiled back.

"To Don's credit, he did do most of the work on his own," Ollie added his own chuckled tease to the mix as he appeared in the doorway.

Little Millie, oblivious to the banter, was staring at Winry's auto-mail kit with interest.

This was good, Aldon thought, given how dirty this conversation was getting with innuendo alone! "You bet I did."

His mother looked like she was going to laugh which, he supposed, was better than her original reaction back when that had been recent events. "As curious as I am now," Winry finally cut in, "I suspect the real reason Ollie is here is because we have to eat breakfast and get to work."

"Unfortunately, you're right Mrs. Elric," Ollie nodded. "You've actually got good timing. We had a successful raid for supplies two days ago, so we've got enough to accommodate everyone. Breakfast is pancakes, oatmeal, sausage, coffee, and milk. Kids get first dibs at the milk though," he added, looking slightly apologetic. "House rule."

"You won't hear us complaining," Aldon replied understandingly. "It all sounds good to me anyway." Though he was sure there wasn't going to be large portions of any one thing.

"There's not much of anything to put on it," Ollie pointed out.

Aldon couldn't help chuckling. "Don't worry about that," he replied. "We're not houseguests or fresh from home either. I've had enough military rations to last me a lifetime. Right now, even instant pancake mix stolen from under Drachman noses sounds like gourmet cooking. In fact, knowing that almost makes it better."

Ollie relaxed and chuckled. "Good thing too… I've been helping cook."

At that, Aldon couldn't resist wrinkling his own nose. "The fact that I'm still willing to eat tells you how hungry I must be."

Kit laughed. "Well let's go get it before it's gone. Half of the dining room is crowded full already."

A shower, however rudimentary, could wait. Right now a meal with his friends was good enough for him.


	30. Chapter 30

**April 8****th****, 1964**

Three days of planning yielded a fairly solid strategy and all of the supplies needed to carry it out. It was not a complicated plan in theory, just in the implementation. They needed to plant explosives – set to timers of Winry's devising – in several strategic places designed to completely blow segments of several key systems; water lines, electrical cable junctions, and sewage pipes. The gas lines needed to be handled more carefully to avoid killing the Amestrians still inside, but sabotaging the lines would also guarantee ruin most of the coal and a bunch of other supplies kept in the lower levels of Briggs. They also planned to rig and destroy as much of the war equipment in the testing areas as possible. It was risky business, but if they pulled it off on the right shifts, and set everything to blow in quick sequence, they should all get out of the areas and be fleeing before anyone was the wiser.

"As long as we hit during the second night shift, there shouldn't be anyone working who might get killed," Ollie commented as they looked over the final elements of the plan. "They don't trust us, so they've been using Drachman guards on those shifts when no one is working. The lower areas where we just do maintenance are completely empty at night save one, maybe two guards on rotation."

"It's almost too easy," Winry couldn't help commenting as she looked at the map lying on top of piles of schematics.

"Almost," Aldon agreed next to her. "But if every one of these charges takes two minutes to attach and arm properly, and we assume the timers all work, than we're still not going to have a very big window to get them set up and get out of here." They had to be placed in a certain sequence, or the timers would be wrong, and they might start going off while the members of the team were still getting the others in place. "One-hundred and eighty charges in thirty minutes with twelve people is cutting it tight, but too many and we risk getting caught."

"We need the others as distractions," Brigadier General Larkin nodded as his eyes flicked continuously over the plans. "Or no one will get near those boilers near the tank bays."

That was the toughest point. It required the most quiet and the quickest rigging. Winry was not surprised that Ollie and Aldon had volunteered for that job themselves.

"We'll make it," Aldon replied confidently. "We spent a lot of time working on that system. I know just where to put them."

The charges were being placed on three floors and, if this worked, should render the base without power, water, and heat – and quite a few tanks – in several large areas. It should definitely make the point and keep the Drachmans busy enough to cover their escape.

"Good," Larkin replied. "I want everyone in position and ready to go at o-two-hundred."

That gave them a few hours to prepare and get ready. Winry followed Ollie and Aldon back to their little corner, where Kit had already packed up anything they were planning to take with them when they fled in a few hours. The explosives would go at two-thirty in the morning, and when they went, the evacuation would begin. The hope was that if everyone was focused on the destruction inside the Fort, the fleeing refugees would be missed or ignored.

"Be careful," Kit said softly as she gave Ollie a hug.

"I should be the one saying that," Ollie chuckled, one hand resting on her belly as he hugged her one-handed and kissed her. "Don't worry about me and Don. We can handle this. You just make sure you and the kids get out safely. We'll catch up. I promise."

Winry stepped into the next room then, leaving the couple to their private moment. "Ready?" She looked at her son.

"As I can be," Aldon nodded. His things were already packed. So were hers. They were going to lay their charges and flee. Their few belongings would go with the refugees. If they caught up they would need them. If the worst happened… well, they would be useful to other people. "What about you, Mom? I mean…"

"This isn't my thing?" Winry couldn't help smiling. Her hands rested on her hips. "I'll have you know I've rigged some pretty bizarre things in my day. This will be a piece of cake."

"I think I'd rather have the cake," Aldon admitted, chuckling, but the point was made. "It would go well with the story we're going to have to tell when we get home."

* * *

The entrance to the tank bays was always guarded. It didn't matter how late it was. Aldon remembered that from when he had worked at Briggs, and nothing had changed except the guards. Two Drachmans lurked, looking utterly not-menacing as they yawned and leaned against the walls that were their posts. If they had been any good, Aldon would have expected to have been heard by now. He and Ollie were parked up in one of the large air ducts in the ceiling above, ready to crawl their way into the boiler room that shared a wall. He was glad they weren't trying to get into the tank bays specifically.

The boiler room almost made it sound insignificant. The boilers in question handled thousands of gallons of water, and the pipes ran it all over the Fort. If it went, it took the capabilities for all easy hot water in the Fort with it for the months it would take to make repairs. That assumed, of course, that the Drachmans had the supplies to make those repairs.

There was a handful of other men arrayed to create a disturbance if necessary and draw the guards' attention. There was little hope of them actually leaving their posts except in the case of a real shoot out, which they were trying to avoid as long as possible.

By now, the refugees who were mothers, children, or not healthy enough to assist in the mission were already shuffling up the long underground cavern tunnels towards the surface. Aldon was grateful, and he knew Ollie was even more so, given that it was _his_ family they were getting out of here.

Below them, one of the Drachmans said something to the other, who chuckled. The quiet banter continued. Good. While they were distracted, Aldon dared to move forward again, Ollie behind him, until they were away from the bit of grate he could see through and directly over the boiler room instead. "Ready?" he asked as quietly as possible.

"Let's go."

Aldon slid a metal bar under the edge of one of the ceiling panels and carefully edged it out of the way. He was in luck; it was where it was supposed to be, directly over one of the catwalks that wove its way between the boilers near the ceiling level. He lowered himself awkwardly through the narrow opening, dropping down at last to the walk below with a soft _oof. _"I'm glad I didn't pig out at dinner," he commented quietly.

Ollie looked down at him a moment before slowly coming down as well. "Makes two of us," he commented as he landed as lightly on the metal grating as he could.

From there they had to descend to the floor, unfortunately. The worst of the damage would require blowing the boilers at the bottom, by the heating mechanisms, and also putting the holes where the water would dump out the most. Several would, however, be placed on upper pipes leading into and out of the area. In another part of the Fort, others would make sure a couple of the other critical pipe junctures went as well.

It was time to get to work.

* * *

Winry was grateful her section of the electrical system was unguarded. She worked quickly, attaching and setting her charges on each of the electrical boxes in the room. She worked quickly, trusting to experience not to make the obvious mistakes, and caution to avoid the rest. She couldn't second guess herself. A large portion of the lay out was her idea and planning. She could not see or hear the others who were sneaking around the Fort at this very moment, doing their jobs to lay the explosives that, in themselves, were not large, but combined would do enough damage to the Drachmans to make them regret taking the Fort. It was self sufficient; a weakness to be exploited when the place could no longer sustain itself. If they could not make repairs quickly, than they would definitely have problems.

Winry only wished they could have pulled this mission off in the dead of winter. The impact would have been even greater. _This place was cold enough with heating …internal and external! _It took a lot to be chilly at that stage of pregnancy. Or so she had discovered since. Not that she really remembered with the immediacy she had once. Her daughter and her daughters-in-law experiencing it now were enough for her! She was happy to be granny instead of just mom. _Besides, if Edward had ever suggested we have five children I'd have smacked him. _Cassie's patience with Aldon was nothing short of a miracle sometimes. Or perhaps it was a shared impatience.  
It was funny, Winry thought as she triggered another charge and moved on to the next set of electrical wiring, how she wouldn't have considered Aldon or Cassie particularly impulsive people. They tended to think things through very sensibly. They had even in school, despite their infatuation. It had only been up here, where Winry had not been able to see the changes the world made in her son, where they had tumbled –rather literally- into adulthood. _They always say the North makes men out of boys. More mothers would worry if they knew the truth of that statement. _

Two more charges to go. Not that Winry would begrudge them a moment of their love, or the wonderful relationship that had come out of it… or her five grandsons that love had produced. It was one of the best – and certainly least tumultuous – matches Winry had ever seen, and suspected there had ever been in their family. At least on the Elric side. Granny had told her that her own parents had gotten along very smoothly too. _So Aldon gets that from me too. Or at least, my side of the family. _She could hardly claim to get along smoothly with her husband that often, though it was much more often the case now than it used to be.  
She hoped Aldon was all right. She did not doubt his abilities; she just didn't trust the Drachmans to do their part and stay confident and out of the way until everything _went._

* * *

"That's it!" Aldon commented as the charge timer began to count down. They had two minutes to get out of the room. Enough time as long as they went _now. _

"Let's move," Ollie agreed from the next boiler over. "Mine's ready." He joined him as they hurried towards the metal grated stairs that led back up to their crawlspace.

They were half-way there when gunshots erupted in the hallway outside the main door. "Crap," Aldon picked up the pace. Return fire told him what he needed to know; the Drachmans had been moving to investigate and their compatriots were creating the distraction they were there for. Aldon hit the stairs at a sprint and was half a flight up when the doors to the boiler room opened and a shout told him they had been seen.

A violent shake of the stairs made him turn. Ollie had tripped, but was righting himself. "Keep going!" He motioned frantically with one hand.

Aldon turned to go as the first gunshot rang out in the room itself, glancing off the metal stairs with a loud clang. The report echoed through the room almost louder than the bullet ricochet. It was followed by another, then a second gunman joined in. Shit! Aldon kept running, then tripped. He ducked, scrambling behind the metal mesh that was the only thing protecting him from getting shot.

Ollie, below, had taken refuge behind a couple of crates.

Aldon didn't like being pinned down. It wasn't the first time this war he'd been under fire, but it was the first time he had been the primary target! Heart pounding almost up into his throat, he looked up at the hold in the ceiling they had come down. It seemed very far away. There were twenty more stairs and a jump into the ceiling ahead of him. He'd be a plain target.

At the other end of the room, one of the boilers exploded, sending steam spouting everywhere as near-boiling hot water poured forth, spilling across the floor. The two Drachman soldiers shouted and leapt backwards as the next boiler went, and steam and smoke intermingled and the room began to fill.

Ollie made a run for the stairs again in the confusion. Aldon could only watch as his friend scrambled up the stairs towards his hiding spot. A moment later the report of the rifle was followed by Ollie's crying out and stumbling. Aldon could see blood leaking through on Ollie's right pant leg…. He'd been hit. "Keep going!" Ollie shouted at Aldon. "Move you idiot!"

Aldon had barely moved two stairs – down, to get his friend – when the shouts run out again and, standing upright, Aldon felt something pierce his leg in the meat of his right thigh. He stumbled, almost falling head-first down the stairs, but catching himself on the railing and clinging tightly to keep from pitching off to certain death. The searing pain in his leg made it difficult to regain balance.

The firing continued until the third boiler went. Then it stopped and Aldon knew the Drachmans had fled in the onslaught of scalding liquid. Not that it would last. The floor, laced with drain holes every ten feet, not unlike those in the bottom of showers, had been designed to deal with leaks. The water would eventually drain away until it was nothing but cold.

In the distance, something rocked the foundations with a thud, and then another. The other charges were going off elsewhere in the building.

That was when the rest of the boilers went off. Aldon clung to the metal stairs as they shook and bucked with the angry venting of the room. He nearly slid off the back when they tilted crazily, and nearly broke free from the wall. But it bucked and creaked for nearly a minute before the violence lessened. When it stabilized, he opened his eyes and dared to look down.

Ollie was no longer on the stairs below him.

"Ollie!" Aldon cried out, praying for an answer. He moved then, not up, but down. "Are you there?" He stumbled downward, gripping the railings and doing his best to ignore the pulsing in his thigh; the blood oozing down his leg.

The steam was dissipating, and the smoke rising upward, billowing and blocking his view. As he neared the ground, Aldon almost fell again, his heart thumping hard. Ollie was there, under a large chunk of what had once been a pipe leading to the boiler. It lay across his legs and, as he moved closer expecting the worst, Ollie twitched.

"I'm… here," Ollie replied weakly. "I… can't move. Get out of… here."

"Not a chance," Aldon shook his head, falling to his knees beside his friend – and crying out briefly at the pain it caused him. "I'll get you out of here. Kit's waiting." He shoved at the pipe, it didn't want to move.

Ollie grimaced and gritted his teeth. "Legs are… shot. Busted. I can barely feel them."

Either Ollie was lying, or the parts he could still feel were causing him unheard of amounts of pain. Aldon took a better look at the situation as they lay there, in the warm water slowly going icy cold, and realized Ollie was right. Both of his legs from the knees down were almost certainly broken, probably in several places if they weren't smashed all together. The right foot and ankle looked truly grotesque, sticking out the other side at an unnatural angle. The blood from the gunshot wound was there…the injury was there. "Then I'll carry you out," Aldon replied, determination seizing him. He wasn't going to leave his best friend to die like this! Not when everyone else was evacuating right now, and Aldon had no intention of dying either. He had promised Cassie he wouldn't.

Aldon scrambled to his feet again and put his full weight against the pipe. "Brace yourself." With a hard shove, bracing with his good leg, Aldon groaned and grunted and heaved until slowly, bit by bit, the two-foot wide pipe began to roll and, finally, jerked off of Ollie's legs.

They looked even worse from that angle. Aldon blanched and focused on Ollie's face, which was pale, but his eyes were open and focused despite the haze of pain. "You're crazy," Ollie commented. "We'll never get… up there."

"Then we'll go the long way," Aldon replied. It was chaos out there now. Who would be guarding this place? The Drachmans, hopefully, thought they were dead. He knelt one more time and took a look at the rest of his friend. Ollie's legs might be toast, but his back and neck seemed all right. "Sorry pal, but this is going to hurt." He grabbed Ollie for lifting, and hauled him up and over his shoulder.

Ollie cried out in agony, then fell quiet as Aldon staggered to his feet with difficulty. His leg didn't like the extra weight of a second person at all.

"You okay?" Aldon asked, hoping he hadn't killed his friend. Ollie was slung over his shoulders the way Aldon had seen fireman carry people out of buildings.

"No," Ollie replied.

At least he was alive. Aldon would consider them lucky and get moving. If they made it quickly enough, they would still find people and transportation waiting for them. If not… Aldon would be making his apologies to Cassie in her dreams….if at all.

* * *

It was a long, slow, agonizing struggle through the halls and tunnels of Briggs. Ollie fell unconscious quickly, and Aldon considered it a blessing even if it left him functionally alone. Aldon silently thanked whoever might be listening when they got back into the secret areas of the Fort without being caught, and again when he staggered into the living area to find the last few people – soldiers and engineers mostly – just making their own escape. They'd had further to travel apparently.

"Aldon!" The sweet, worried sound of his mother's voice was like balm on his frazzled nerves if nothing else. Winry appeared out of the dark gloom, frowning with concern. "What happened to you two? We were about to leave." She blanched when she got closer. "Is he alive?"

"Yeah," Aldon nodded. He could feel Ollie's chest moving against his back. "But his legs are in bad shape. Is there still a medic here?"

Winry shook her head. "No, but we've got supplies. Let's get you both patched up as quickly as we can." She looked at two of the engineers who had been living under Briggs all this time. "Can you rig a stretcher?"

"We've got an old one," one of them replied and vanished. A minute later he returned and set it down in the hallway right there.

Aldon was relieved when another man helped him bend down and lower Ollie onto the stretcher. As soon as that was done he collapsed on the floor beside it. His head was swimming and he knew he'd lost too much blood already. Of course, any blood was too much in his mind.

He watched as his mother took charge of the situation. Ollie's bleeding wound was bandaged and his legs set from the knees down with the best splints she could manage to keep them from getting any more mangled in transport. Then she turned and he saw her face come down to his. "You're going to have to get up, honey. I need to bandage your leg."

After several minutes of lying on the cold stone moving was even more painful. Aldon righted himself, and grimaced as his mother stopped the blood flow and bandaged his thigh. "You're lucky the bullet punched through," she commented when she was done. "Digging those out is awful."

One of the engineers offered him a water bottle, and Aldon drained it. Only then did he stagger fully to his feet. "How long do we have?"

"We're the end. They'll wait for us but no one else," the same engineer said as he stepped up on his bad side and got under Aldon's arm for support. "At least for another couple of hours; Let's get out of here."

The other two men picked up the stretcher as Aldon's mother packed the few medical supplies back up and joined them. Aldon did his best to focus and keep moving. It was going to be a long night. He hoped Ollie made it.

* * *

The caverns seemed even bigger and longer to Winry on the way up them than they had on the way down. It was, she knew, partly because they were now struggling up hill, but also because Aldon and Ollie were both badly injured. Her son stumbled often, and bit down on his pain, though gasps escaped. He kept moving, she knew, only by sheer stubborn Elric will. His pride and determination wouldn't let him collapse. He wouldn't lose.

When they got to the top and made their way down to the edge of the cliff, Winry was almost certain that the trucks would have left them by now, but across the snowy stretch of distance left to cover, she thought she could see movement. The clouds had broken tonight, and the moonlight shown on the snow, making it almost as bright as day, in an eerie kind of way.

Getting them down the steep incline seemed to take forever. Ollie was strapped to the stretcher and his bearers worked admirably to cause him as little pain as possible. In his unconscious state however, he still whimpered when jarred.

They met no resistance crossing the snowy plain back to the trees. The Drachmans, as they had hoped, were completely internally focused. So even though the trip back took nearly four hours – a solid hour longer than it had taken to go up in the first place, they found the trucks waiting, packed with refugees and their original compliment of men.

Ollie and Aldon, with Winry on her insistence, were piled into one of the trucks immediately for warmth and laid out on the ground. It was a truck of all military men, and Winry was grateful that Kit and the children were in another truck. The news was sent to her that Ollie was injured, but alive. For now, that was all she needed to know.

The medic, a skinny, weasel-nosed man joined them, focusing on Ollie first. "Heart's steady. Breathing's shallow, but I expect shock in a situation like this." He looked calm as he examined Ollie's legs, though the jostling brought the tow-headed man back to life.

"Shit that hurts!" Ollie griped.

"Must be feeling okay if you can curse," Aldon chuckled tiredly. The truck floor was piled thick with straw and covered with blankets. Winry waited, sitting by Aldon's head and staying out of the way now that the medic was here.

"Bite me," was Ollie's reply. "What's the verdict?"

"Both legs are broken in at least eight places," the medic replied with a sigh. "I can't try and set them, but changes are they won't set right like that. They'll probably heal crooked without extreme intervention."

"How extreme?" Ollie asked, looking mildly horrified. Which made sense, Winry observed. The idea of being paralyzed or permanently crippled was terrifying to most people. She had seen it with thousands of her patients.

"Alchemical healing," the medic shrugged. "An experienced alchemical doctor, like the ones in Xing, could probably set this right enough to see them grow straight again. I'm not sure the foot can be saved though."

"Ethan can do that, and for a foot," Winry pointed out, "Or anything else for that matter, there's always auto-mail."

Ollie's eyes closed and he lay very still for long enough that Winry started to worry. "Thanks, Mrs. Elric."

"What for?" Winry asked softly.

"Answers," Ollie smiled without opening his eyes, "Forward thinking ones."

"Mom's good at that," Aldon chuckled tiredly. He was covered now, under a blanket. Winry could feel his hands warming. They watched the medic give Ollie a large dose of painkillers. Ollie was out again as soon as they hit his system. His whole body relaxed.

"Now to see to you," the medic moved over to Aldon and uncovered his leg. It was an unpleasant experience, and Aldon spent most of it clearly keeping himself from crying out, or crying at all. He braced often. When the doctor was done the dressings were changed and his leg half immobilized. "At least until we get you to a hospital and they can do a proper job," the medic sighed. Then he pulled out another small syringe of painkillers.

"Hold on," Aldon surprised her by interrupting "How much have you got?"

"Four doses," the medic replied, looking startled.

Aldon shook his head. "Save them… for Ollie." Winry understood then. His friend was much worse off than he was.

The medic looked disapproving. "You're sure?"

Aldon nodded. "I'll survive. He needs them more than I do."

The medic put the syringe away and covered Aldon back up. Tucked up with another blanket for a pillow, Aldon looked like he was getting drowsy. Winry hoped he slept soon. She suspected it wouldn't take long. "I'll check on them in a bit," he replied, moving back to his corner of the truck and settling down under a blanket himself.

The motor revved and the truck began to roll as Aldon's eyes drooped slowly closed. Outside, Winry could hear the rest of them as well. She tucked a blanket up around herself, paying little attention to the men crammed around them on benches, or against the back of the truck on the floor. Instead she lay down in the thick hay next to her sleeping son. _A hero and a true friend. I'm proud of you Aldon. When you're awake next, I'll tell you so._


	31. Chapter 31

**April 10****th****, 1964**

Maes was definitely starting to miss city living. With the Front moving constantly further North, it was rarer to get leave days where they had time even to drive in to North City. Sometimes that meant wandering into whatever town was closest by that wasn't under Drachman control.

Tonight he was grateful for even a few hours off. After their successful mission to destroy the supply depot nearly a month ago their unit had been busy. They had taken out two smaller munitions deposits behind enemy lines without any further loss of team members or major injuries. Maes felt a little less anxious. He hadn't messed up since. Maybe his bad luck streak was finally over.

He wandered down the street of the little village that had been a short drive into town. He had ridden in with a couple of other folks in a borrowed truck and would have to head back before too late, but it was nice to look in the store fronts as he contemplated things he thought the kids or Elena might like.

He made his way down to the military post office, which was set up in the village out of the regular post here at the moment. There was always the possibility of a letter. It took a few minutes of waiting, but he was rewarded quickly with a "Yes, I've got a letter here for Lieutenant Colonel Mustang. It arrived this afternoon. We were going to put it on the truck out to the lines in the morning."

Maes took it eagerly and looked at it as he stepped back outside. The postage was from Aerugo, but he had expected that. Elena had plenty to do down there talking them into sending soldiers and supplies northward to protect Amestris. Maes couldn't imagine Aerugo wanted Drachma on _their_ northern border.

Stepping into the light of a corner lamp Maes opened the envelope and leaned against the lamp post to read.

_Dearest Maes,_

_ Little has changed with the government since last I wrote. They continue to be obstinate and waffle on the issues. They might make a decision in the next year at this rate, though I continue to do my part in hoping to encourage them to better expedience. While I am the least experienced diplomat here, they still seem to listen to me more than others because of my family. While this might be foolish on their part, we continue to use it to Amestris' advantage._

I received letters from the children recently, assuring me they had written to you as well, and that they had received a reply from you not too long ago. It relieves me to know they are doing well. Also, while I am not certain he has expressed this wish to you, I feel I should bring it up so that you can discuss it when you return. Roy expressed great interest in learning alchemy from you when we are all home again. I know you hoped that at least one of the children would show interest, so I am sure this will please you. If he has not mentioned it yet, I expect Roy is concerned you won't think him good enough. If not, please let me know what you have said to him on the matter.

I appreciated also your last letter, brief as it was, and am glad your missions are going well. You have always been the hero of my heart, and I know you are doing the same to make our home safe now as you did when you fought down here. I admit, I feel nostalgia roaming my old home again. I remember the hardships of that time, but also the joy of my childhood during the years I was not in Central. I miss my family greatly, but the neighbors who lived are still very kind and generous. Missus Varez has allowed me to stay at her house throughout the proceedings, and recently her great-nephew, Marco's cousin Miguel came to visit. He's very delightful. I believe you would enjoy his company. He has an excellent sense of humor; wicked really. He lives on the ocean south of Bueáire where he owns a company that sells and builds boats. When this is done, he invites the whole family, children included, to come down for a visit. Don't you think the kids would enjoy the sea? I admit it would be pleasant. Miguel has taken it upon himself to see us – by which I mean all the diplomats – are treated well and enjoy our time in Bueáire as much as possible given the circumstances. We visited many of the same places in our childhoods, and it is nice to have someone to reminisce with about old times and acquaintances. He insists on affording me the comforts of my station; an amusing gesture, but sweet none the less. 

_ I miss you very much, and the children. It is difficult to be away. Take care of yourself and be well._

_Your beloved,  
Elena_

Maes spent several minutes reading, then read through the letter again and again. He always did until he had it nearly memorized. Elena was proud of him. He was glad, though guilt twinged inside him. He had glossed over his reasons remaining so long out of the action. He hadn't wanted her to be embarrassed by his mistakes. Did he deserve her praise?

Who was this Miguel? _Elena's ex-fiancé's cousin apparently._ He was showing Elena a good time. He had a good sense of humor and seemed to remind her of _him_. He had invited the family to visit. Was it really just a generous invitation? Or was there something more behind spending so much time with Elena?

Maes realized he had half-crumpled the letter into pulp in his hands and flattened it out before folding it again more properly. He stuffed it in his pocket and started back down the street. What was he doing up here? More importantly, why had he let Elena go down _there_? Everyone knew Aerugean men couldn't be trusted…

* * *

"Are you sure I'm not a third wheel?" Tore teased as he walked along beside Cal, who had Alyse contentedly and gracefully holding on to his left arm. While they hadn't had time to get off to go down to North City, she had managed to arrange enough time off to come up closer to the front and meet them for the evening.

"Promise," Alyse chuckled. "Besides, when we get to the restaurant I'm sure Margery will be more than happy to keep you company."

That, Tore decided, was the best part. Alyse had come up with some of the other nurses and at least one was interested in meeting him and hanging out. He remembered her from North City; a good looking brunette with big eyes and a very kissable looking mouth. The rest of her had been worth a look too! "As long as you're sure," he grinned impishly.

"I'd feel lost without you," Cal sniggered. "Like my shadow had run away."

"Then aren't you lucky I'm here?" Tore enjoyed the banter. They arrived at the restaurant and went inside. Tore spotted Margery sitting at a table already. She smiled and waved when she saw them.

"Margery, you remember Tore," Alyse introduced them casually as she sat down with Cal on one side, leaving the spot by the other woman open.

Tore grinned as he sat down beside her. "Hello again. It's been a while."

"Fortunately," Margery giggled, sipping from her drink. "Any time I see you in North City you seem to be injured."

"Well I assure you, I'm completely sound now," Tore winked. "And up to any challenge." His shoulder was almost completely healed, and he had been back on duty as of their mission this past week. If he exerted himself a lot, it was sore afterwards but otherwise fine.

"I may have to take you up on that," Margery smiled mysteriously.

Or at least, it would have been mysterious if Tore wasn't familiar with that look. "I look forward to it."

* * *

Dinner was enjoyable. It had been a long time since Alyse had the luxury of sitting and socializing with people she knew and liked. She had not had much leave time since coming to the war zone. Not that she had been here that long, she reasoned. She was fresh, and her work was hardly as tiring as the doctors and trained nurses, who spent much more time handling patients when it came to serious matters.

Ethan had been more than happy to sign off on making sure Alyse got the night off, and she was determined to spend it with Cal.

Tore and Margery hit it right off and flirted shamelessly through dinner and drinks. "We should leave you two to yourselves for a bit I think," Tore finally commented, standing and giving Margery a look. "Would you care to join me for a walk?"

"I'd love to." Margery hopped up and once he helped her with her coat she practically clung to his arm.

Alyse watched them go with a suspicious feeling. "They're not really going for a walk, are they?"

"Maybe to the nearest available hotel room," Cal snickered before he had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "I mean…"

"Just what you said," Alyse cut him off. "You don't have to try and gloss things over for me, Cal. What my foster-cousin does on his own time is none of my business. They're both adults." And, besides, in a world where death might come anytime, could she blame anyone for wanting a little human contact? She reached out and squeezed Cal's hand. "Though I appreciate the sentiment."

"Sorry," Cal smiled, abashed. "I know I don't. It's just kind of reflexive I guess. I never exactly told my mother what I got up to on missions either. I always figured it would insult her sensibilities."

"Well my sensibilities aren't insulted," Alyse replied. "And as long as you aren't getting up to anything now that we're together, I'm not personally insulted either."

She had meant to tease, but Cal's face turned ashen. "You know I wouldn't!"

"Of course I do," she patted his hand apologetically. "I'm sorry, it was meant to be a jest! I know you wouldn't cheat on me. Honest."

Cal's tense muscles relaxed. She could feel it in his arm. "More's the miracle," he smiled, leaning over and kissing her cheek. "Let them have their fun. What would _you_ like to do with the rest of our evening?"

"Take a walk and talk? Just spend time together," Alyse suggested. Preferably someplace quiet where they could be alone.

"That, we can most definitely do," Cal smiled as he waved for the check then went to get their coats.

Alyse waited, sipping the last of her hot tea. She had no intention of dragging _anyone_ into a hotel room for quite some time yet, but the idea of wasting a moment of time with Cal was almost physically painful lately. Somehow though, that pain was reassuring. She loved and missed Cal every moment he was gone, and every moment they were together. It was more than the excitement of just another new relationship, and she hoped the feeling would last, even when the first thrill faded; when they had to deal with the world as it was. Which, she chuckled to herself, she knew they were already doing. Cal would live through this. She refused to think otherwise. And after, when this was all done, perhaps he would be ready to take things where Alyse wanted them to go.

"Ready?" Cal returned with her coat. "There's a pretty spot not too far from here. It's a park, with trees, and a stream. The owner says the early spring flowers are blooming there."

Alyse stood and smiled as he helped her with her coat. "That sounds delightful."

**April 14****th****, 1964  
**

"Anything new?" Edward asked Feury as he walked into the communications office in the main command tent. For the past several days the Drachmans had been squawking on their radios about something major going down at Briggs; explosions, damage, though not much in the way of lives lost. While there weren't a lot of details, it was clear that the higher ups were _pissed off._ The Drachman government had, by reports, been shouting at Rehnquist and cursing his name "Their curse words are getting less creative," Feury commented with a chuckle. "I guess that happens if you shout for more than a week."

"I wouldn't know," Ed replied with a coy grin.

"Yeah, your rants never last that long," Falman agreed as he joined them. Communications was Feury's domain though. Here, with the equipment and the banks of lower ranking officers, he might as well be king.

"Seriously," Ed looked back at Feury. "Is there any word from the soldiers who went on the mission?" _Is there any word about Winry and Aldon? Are they alive? _

"Nothing," Feury replied apologetically. "But if they're under surveillance they may be staying silent to avoid discovery. They should be back anytime in the next couple of days if they got out. If not, and they survived, we'll get some news."

Ed's hand closed convulsively on the thick paper cup in his hand, and the lukewarm coffee in it nearly spilled over the top before he loosened his grip. "Right. Thanks. Look, just let me know when you hear anything, okay?"

"I promised yesterday," Feury reminded him patiently. "And the day before, and the one before that."

Ed had to admit he did feel a little foolish, but it wasn't like he didn't have reason to be concerned. "I know. Sorry. I'll get out of your hair."

"That's not hard these days," Feury chuckled at his own expense. His high hairline had done nothing but recede since his forties.

"Don't you have something useful to be doing?" Falman joked, looking over at Ed.

Ed shrugged. "I wish." His unit had been hopping when they first arrived back, but diminished as they had been, then the remnants of another team put together with his, had made for good distraction. This week however, his whole unit was down for a little much needed rest and recuperation. They had lost one of their new members already – alchemist death tolls were well higher than Ed liked. Fletcher had pulled a back muscle that, while hardly a critical wound, needed time to heal up, so he had been taking it easy.

Finn… well Ed was still worried about Finn's head more than anything else. He hadn't made any major mistakes or anything, but whenever they weren't on duty, Finn was more easily found at the bottom of a bottle than anywhere else. Lordes' death had hit him rougher than he would admit. Ed didn't have to ask what was wrong with his subordinate. He knew all too well what Finn was going through, and he did his best to keep an eye on him. If it came to it, he'd order Finn off the battlefield and into a doctors' office, but he hoped that Finn's depression was something he would come out of on his own. A lot of people did. Though he should talk to him again.

Ed left the tent and looked around, trying to decide where he wanted to go next. He hadn't been kidding; he really didn't have much of anything to do. Reports went to Kane, or Breda and his staff, not him. He was completely up to date on what little paperwork was involved with one individual unit. His reports were in and other than the fact that he needed a little maintenance done on his arm he was in fine fettle. He could have gotten the arm looked at, but he didn't want to admit that he was waiting for Winry. As long as his auto-mail needed repair, Winry was almost guaranteed to show up.

Ed decided to talk a stroll along the line and check out the other units. There was no shooting going on today, just glaring across the expanse between the lines. That was good. Days of rest were getting further and further in between. Keeping shipments of supplies and ammunition coming, even on their own soil, was starting to be a challenge. Even if they won, what would be left for the rest of Amestris? _War's only good for the economy when it's not on your own soil._

It was the third "Fullmetal!" before Ed realize someone was shouting for him excitedly. He turned and saw Cal Fischer waving in his direction.

Ed paused and waited. "What's up, Whitewater?"

"What's up? Only the news you've been waiting for. The caravan's here! Well, it's coming," he amended. "They just spotted it from the watch towers, coming in around from the east on our side of the line. Looks like they made a pretty big detour."

Now that _was _news! "Well let's go." Ed took off at a jog, not caring how hurried he looked to anyone. He had to see if his family was all right!

They reached the east side of the line a few minutes ahead of the caravan, which motored in at a pace that made Ed almost crawl out of his skin with anxiety. Soon, several very battered trucks pulled up into camp and came to a halt.

Ed saw Breda huffing up to meet them a moment later, but Ed beat him to the first truck. "How'd it go?" he asked Brigadier General Larkin, who was sitting next to the first driver.

"Explosively," Larkin replied seriously before breaking out in a tired grin. He looked past Ed to Breda, but Ed didn't feel like griping about it as long as he got the information he needed. "We got out the entire underground camp save the few who died in the escape. We lost ten men all told, had six wounded."

"How badly?" Ed asked.

Larkin looked at him again with a knowing expression. "Mrs. Elric and your son are in the fourth truck, Fullmetal. He's wounded but the medic says he'll be fine in time; took a shot in the thigh pulling a buddy out of an exploding room."

Well now that was a story! Ed didn't hang around to hear the rest. He'd get the report later. Instead he headed for the fourth truck. "Winry?" he couldn't help calling out as he came around the back.

"In here," her voice sent relief through his entire body.

"Fullmetal, Sir," the soldier at the tailgate offered him a hand up into the high-backed vehicle, with a respectful nod.

Ed was in too much of a hurry to worry about the fact he was still short enough to need it. Most guys were. Half the soldiers had already gotten out, the people who remained were the injured, the doctor, and related people. Winry and Aldon were to one side, with Aldon sitting propped up against one of the side benches, clearly in the process of getting up enough to get out of the truck.

Ed headed straight to them and got under Aldon's other arm. "I hear you were playing hero," he commented with a sideways smile as he hefted his son.

Aldon chuckled. "Your positive influence of course." He looked scruffy, tired, and wobbly. He put a lot more weight on Ed's shoulders than it probably looked like.

"And here I hoped at least one of you would get your mother's good sense," Ed smiled across Aldon at Winry. "How are you doing?"

"I've been better," Aldon admitted, sounding relaxed about the whole thing. Of course, he'd had days to get past the initial rush. Ed was more impressed he wasn't restless.

A funny waft tickled his nose. "Are you drunk?" he asked incredulously.

Aldon snickered. "Not really," he replied. "That would be the only painkiller I've had this week."

"Didn't you take medics?" Ed looked over at the medical officer he knew had gone with them, who was taking care of another patient, one who hadn't moved. Ed blanched when he recognized Ollie Larson. That made the pregnant woman with the two little children his wife, Kit, and the kids.

Aldon glanced past him. "Ollie needed them more than I did," he replied by way of explanation. "His legs are in pretty bad shape."

"They'll have Ethan on his way to have a look at him soon I'm sure," Winry said as they helped Aldon hobble to the edge. Arriving medics helped them get him down and made him lie down on a wheeled gurney.

Aldon didn't argue. "Wow that feels good."

"How bad is the leg?" Ed asked, almost afraid to find out. It hadn't sounded critical from Larkin's comment, but he couldn't be entirely sure.

"It will heal up in a few weeks," Winry explained as Aldon was wheeled away towards the medical tent. "It's mostly tissue damage and it went clean through. There have been no signs of infection either."

Thank goodness. Ed smiled, relieved. "So I guess you get a little R&R before the rest of us."

"No question of that," Breda commented, joining them. He looked at Aldon. "As soon as you're fit for travel, you'll be on a train to Central; medical discharge. Good work out there. Now go home to your wife."

Aldon chuckled, wincing slightly. "Yes Sir, General Breda."

"Thanks," Ed looked at Breda.

Breda shrugged, and grinned. "Hey, at least one of us should have that chance. Excuse me, I have to go listen to about a dozen reports." He headed away again at a brisk walk.

Aldon closed his eyes. "Dad, can you call Cassie and let her know?"

"As soon as I can get to a phone," Ed promised. He suspected it was a call that would worry and relieve his daughter-in-law. Aldon was hurt, but he was alive, and he was coming home for good. "So the mission worked?"

Winry responded this time. "It did. The plan worked perfectly as far as we could tell. At least, the explosives went off and we got everyone out."

That was enough to call it a success considering, Ed felt. "Well reports coming in from listening to the Drachman frequencies are that there's been a lot of damage it's going to take them months to repair if they can. They're furious."

"Good!" Aldon grinned broadly. "We've heard nothing."

"Radio silence," Winry explained. "We had a couple of close calls coming back, or we would have contacted everyone sooner."

"I'm just glad you're back," Ed replied, refraining from stopping and grabbing Winry in a longer hug. That could wait for a more private moment when they weren't on the mood.

"Me too," Winry admitted with a smile and an expression Ed knew meant she looked forward to that hug as much as he did.

They reached the medical tent quickly enough, and the gurney with Ollie was brought in just a minute behind them, though he was wheeled off elsewhere. Aldon was parked in a quiet spot near the end of a row of injured soldiers.

"If you'll give us some time," the doctor looked at Ed and Winry, "we need to do a full examination. You can come back later."

"Of course." Winry nodded reasonably.

With that cue, Ed didn't try and argue for staying near his son. Aldon was in good hands and in no immediate danger. He followed Winry outside, and was startled when she abruptly whirled and threw her arms around his neck, half-choking him in a tight embrace. Ed put his arms more gently around her shoulders, patting her back. He couldn't help smiling. "Hey, beautiful, it's okay."

Her body quivered. "I know… I missed you."

He knew it was more than that. Ed nodded. "I love you."

Winry sniffed, then stood straight again and smiled tiredly, only one tear escaped her eyes. "Can we find someplace private? I'd like to get away from all this for a while."

"I have a tent," Ed offered apologetically. He wished it was a private room, or a palace.

Winry kissed his cheek and hugged him again. "Sounds perfect."

**April 15****th****, 1964**

A good night's sleep in Edward's arms was better balm than anything a doctor could have given her. Winry slept deeply and peacefully despite the constant activity in camp. She awoke only when she felt the chill metal of an auto-mail hand on her shoulder and Edward's quiet "wake up, honey."

Blinking things into focus, Winry rolled over and looked at her husband. "Do I have to?"

Ed smiled apologetically. "You do if you want to come to the strategic meeting Breda's having in half an hour. He's got some big news apparently."

Sleep would be nice, but sleep without Ed was less appealing. "All right, I'm coming."

Warm clothes and a quick breakfast – with a strong cup of coffee – had Winry feeling alert and ready by the time she and Ed arrived at the command tent. Inside, Breda and his full staff, Kane, and several other officers were already in evidence. No one looked twice at Winry when she came in with Ed though. They weren't the last ones in either, though after a few minutes the last man arrived.

Breda nodded. "Good, let's get started." He picked up a stick and tapped the western front. "At the present time, the Drachmans are in full retreat here. We've pulled Alchemists and soldiers off that line and they are still retreating briskly. The western line is broken and clear."

Winry noticed Ed looking pleased at that prospect. So did a few others who had been out west at any point.

"Reports from our eastern front," he tapped the area on the map where Alphonse and the others were located, "are just as positive. The Drachmans are pulling back and have suffered heavy casualties. With intelligence, it seems clear that they are also going to pull back. What this means is that they are likely going to recoup their losses, re-consolidate, and plan to make another strong push down the center here." His stick landed right on the area where they were standing.

"So what are we going to do about it?" Kane asked.

Breda smirked. "We're going to bite back. While they're still regrouping we're going t make a hard push north, aiming straight for Briggs."

Winry was almost surprised at the boldness of the move given the distance and force required, but then, it might just be time for a move like that, as opposed to one more conservative. After all, when you had the king in your sights in chess with the option of crossing half the board, didn't it make sense to put the enemy in check?


	32. Chapter 32

**April 21****st****, 1964**

Leg pain aside, Aldon was in increasingly good spirits as the train neared Central. By the time it arrived he was almost giddy with anticipation. That might also have been pain medication which, after getting to North City, had been almost forced upon him during his first examination, and then every twelve hours there-after by medics and nurses. Coupled with being forced to lie still for hours at a time in order to allow his body to rest and mend, Aldon was getting a little twitchy for action too. Crutching up and down the train car a couple of times a day just wasn't good enough.

At least by the time they hit Central Station he was allowed to move around some by himself, though he would be on the crutches for a couple more weeks to keep weight off his leg. What had him most anxious was Cassie's promise – relayed by his father – that she would be waiting for him in Central.

It had been over a year since Aldon had seen his wife. They had talked on the phone maybe twice, despite dozens of letters. Today, he would hold Cassie in his arms. If it weren't for the bandages on his upper thigh, he would have planned on doing a good bit more as well.

He spotted them from the train window almost as soon as they stopped at the platform; Cassie and all five of the boys, waiting eagerly. In that moment, all of Aldon's patience fled. The medic chastised him as he hobbled to the exit and barely allowed them to help him down to the platform.

Aldon had dreamed of this moment for months, but instead of rushing into Cassie's arms, she rushed into his. Her arms were around his neck in seconds, and her lips send a jolt of near-electricity through his body like he couldn't believe. How had he ever even begun to forget just how amazing and alive and_ gorgeous_ his wife was?  
His arms unavailable thanks to the stupid crutches, Aldon contented himself with leaning into the kiss until Cassie decided to let it end. Green eyes sparkled as she beamed up at him, teary but relieved and happy. "Thank goodness you're safe." Then she kissed him again, briefly, and again on the cheek, and then one more time on the lips for good measure.

Aldon couldn't help a laugh. "Oh my darling, I've missed you."

"Darling…" Cassie giggled. "You really _have_ missed me." Her grip on him loosened just a little as the boys joined them and insisted on getting their own hugs in. In moments Aldon was mobbed by his sons. It was a great feeling. Coran and Reichart had both sprouted into young men, and Uray and Ian – different as night and day it seemed – had sprouted up taller. Urey looked to be about ready for another spurt again. Little Edward, a baby when he left, was now a rambunctious toddler.

"Of course I've missed you," Aldon smiled, getting a good look at his wife for the first time in far too long. "I've missed all of you! I… wow." The image sunk in as he noticed… she was not quite the same as when he left. Her hair was still relatively long, but it was styled and layered just a bit more. The clothes looked new and…

"You look…."

"You can say it, promise," Cassie giggled, her cheeks blushing rosily.

Permission was good. "You've lost weight."

"Mom made us swear not to write you a word," Coran chuckled. "She said it was a surprise."

"Well I think it's a great one," Aldon laughed, far from displeased. Not that he'd had any problem with Cassie's looks at any point, but she had been discontented, he knew, with what having five boys had done to her once dance-trim form. She had managed, somehow, to recover that slim waist he remembered from at least three or four children ago, and the more rounded elements of her figure were firmer, but certainly curvier than when they got married. She had been near-on a twig then. Now… "You look amazing!"

"Well I worked out long enough for it," Cassie replied, clearly delighted by his response. She waded in through their children to hug him again. "We're staying at your folks' place with Lia. She's waiting with the car whenever we can have you." She glanced past him meaningfully to the male nurse standing behind them.

"He'll need to check in with Doctor Gray weekly," the nurse replied, "but other than that he's been discharged from hospital care. Orders are to report to the doctor today as well."

Cassie beamed and the boys cheered. "Great. Then let's get you out of here. We can swing by the hospital on the way home and get that done." She glanced past Aldon as if to make sure that was all right.

Aldon was glad when the nurse nodded and headed off to get other patients. He would much rather spend the rest of the day in the company of his family! "Let's get out of here."

"I'll have Lia bring the car around front," Cassie kissed him on the cheek, her hand lingering momentarily on his chest, clearly reluctant to leave him again.

"I'll help Dad," Coran offered.

"Great. Come on then," she herded little Edward, Ian, and Urey ahead of her, leaving Coran and Reichart with their father.

Coran picked up Aldon's duffel and slung it easily over his shoulders, then followed as Aldon crutched his way slowly down the platform toward the car. Reichart fell in on Aldon's other side. "Does it hurt much?" Reichart spoke first, the twelve-year old looking with some curiosity at Aldon's crutches.

"Not too bad," Aldon replied with a reassuring smile. "But I don't recommend getting shot if you can ever avoid it."

"Sounds good to me," Coran quipped, though Aldon noticed conflicting emotions playing across the face of his nearly-fourteen year old son. They were not boyish expressions either. Even without going to the war, his oldest son had done what most of the family seemed to do, and grown up earlier than most. "I'm just glad you came back."

"Me too," Aldon said. "Though it's a nice surprise to see all of you here." He hadn't been sure if Cassie would meet him with just the youngest and leave the rest with a friend in Resembool so they wouldn't miss school, or what. His father hadn't had that information.

"Mom figured we wouldn't miss much coming up early," Coran explained. "We were going to visit Central for the summer anyway. And I can make sure no one missed anything important anyway."

"That's true." They reached the entrance to the station and waited. There was a line of cars. Aldon could see his father's car, with Lia and Cassie inside – the younger kids in back – waiting for others to pull out. "Your mom said you've been a big help this year. Both of you have," he grinned at Reichart.

Coran looked a little embarrassed, but Reichart beamed proudly. "There was a lot to do, Dad."

"I'm sure there was." Aldon leaned on his left crutch long enough to ruffle Reichart's hair with one hand. His son grinned broadly as he did so.

Coran's expression remained more reserved. "Grandpa didn't tell us the whole story," he commented after a minute. "Will you?"

"When we get back to the house I'll tell you the whole thing," Aldon promised. "Now that it's over, it makes for a pretty exciting story." True and goodly over; his part in the war was done. There was more to do, but Aldon could stay with his family now, content that he had contributed all that he could and also kept his promise to his wife and children. He had come home alive and whole, if battered.

**April 22****nd****, 1964**

Another day, another letter; Maes wasn't sure if the last one had been delayed, or this one had come more quickly. Elena had not put dates on her last two letters, but the newest one had not assuaged his concerns over the last one. Negotiations had taken a one week recess while Aerugo celebrated their spring festival holiday, and Elena had gone to the seaside with the other Amestrian ambassadors _and Miguel._ It was full of happy little anecdotes and little finds; presents she thought the children would love, and how much she missed them all. How they would love the beaches, the warmth. There was a party on the beach almost every night during the festival.  
And there was Miguel. Every time his name appeared in ink Maes wanted to rip him to shreds.

Or at least, that was how he felt most of the time. At the moment, Maes was feeling a little mellower on the subject. If Elena felt like telling him all about her enjoying time with another man, why should he take offense? It seemed like an implicit invitation to relax and enjoy himself. At least, that was what the logical voices in his head told him after the third tequila. Or was it fourth?  
_  
Time to head back, Mustang. There's plenty to do tomorrow. _Maes tipped the bartender and left, preparing to make the short walk outside of the small town they were most lately camped outside of back to the tents. The cool, damp air felt good on his face. It was too cold to remind him of Aerugo, but the stars above tonight, the moisture in the air, were close enough. He'd picked tonight's drink in honor of his wife.

Hell, he was hallucinating her now; walking in the lamplight across the small street he was about to cross. No, wait… that was a real woman. She was looking at him, with a bemused smile. It wasn't Elena though. "Hi Eileen," Maes couldn't help smiling as she came up to him. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Delivering something for a friend," Eileen replied with a small shrug. "Hello again, State Alchemist." The last was said with a slight smile. "Still lonely?"

"Not now," Maes chuckled, smiling at her. She _was_ pretty, with the thick dark hair, full lips, eyes glinting in the lamp light. Fair, smooth skin. "I was a minute ago."

The brief look of surprise in her eyes was not the reaction Maes had expected. "Cute," she smiled, relaxing again. "You had me going."

"I meant it." Maes stepped in a little closer, looking into the depth of her eyes. They were warm, open. They widened a little when he put a hand to her cheek. "You were interested in North City. Are you still?"

Wide eyes turned to angry slits. "You're married."

"You look a little like her," Maes admitted, "But prettier." He tried to kiss those tempting lips.

A hand landed firmly on his chest. "And I think you've had too much to drink. I want no part of this, Lieutenant Colonel…."

"Mustang," he supplied, realizing he'd never mentioned it. "Maes Mustang."

Her eyes widened almost incomprehensibly. "Mustang… like_, Roy_ Mustang?"

Great, his father preceded him again. "Yes, I'm that Maes Mustang," he sighed.

"Go back to your camp and sleep this off," she pulled away angrily. "I want no part of helping a man cheat on his wife."

Maes tried to catch her hand. "Eileen! Please wait… it's not like that."

"It's not." She paused, glancing back over her shoulder skeptically. "You're married, right?"

"Well, yes."

"You love her?"

"…Yes."

Eileen shook her head. "You're drunk. You smell like an Aerugean cantina. Go back to your tent and don't talk to any women. You'll regret it tomorrow."

Would he? Half of him screamed yes, but the other wasn't so sure. "So… that's a no."

"Oh dear god why do I get to deal with the dumb ones?" he thought he heard her mutter as she covered her face with one hand for a moment. "You're correct. That's a definite _no_. Good night, Mustang." She walked on down the street at a brisk pace and didn't look back.

Maes stared after her until she vanished around a corner two blocks up. It was only when she was gone that what he had just done began to sink into his sodden brain. _What the heck is wrong with me?_

**April 25****th****, 1964  
**

"Welcome back to civilization…sort of," Edward laughed when Alphonse climbed out of the truck, followed by Roy, Riza, and Armstrong.

"Somebody find me the strongest cup of coffee you've got," Roy snorted, though he smiled anyway. "Then I'll feel welcome."

"Anything we have is in the Mess, as usual," Breda chuckled. "Things are lean all over."

Ed turned his attention to only his brother as Al approached him. His brother looked, for all intensive purposes, about the same as they last time he had seen him, months ago. Other than needed a hair trim he was near identical really… except for the eyes. They looked even more serious than usual and sharp as he looked around. Though the brief hug with which he greeted Ed included an enthusiastic grin. "Hey, Ed."

Ed hugged him back, then grinned. "Hey, Al. How was the East?"

"About as much fun as the West from what I hear," Al snickered. Together, they turned and headed towards the rest of camp. "I'm glad it's lunch time. I'm starved."

Ed had to lengthen his stride a little more than he remembered to keep pace with Al. His brother moved with an efficiency of purpose that seemed motivated only by the goal of reaching the Mess. "I bet," he replied. Now seemed like a pretty decent time to try and fill Al in on the news he was missing. He knew – from Ethan and Will – that Alyse hadn't quite dared mention her relationship to Al. It wasn't exactly a secret, but it was going to be better if Al knew, because he was going to see soon enough. Alyse and Ethan had been transferred to the front instead of North City, now that the army was preparing to push for Briggs, and in their off moments Alyse and Cal had quickly become inseparable.

"What's Alyse doing here?"

Too late. Ed spotted his niece and the Whitewater Alchemist walking into the Mess together. "She's been helping out as a nurse, working with Ethan mostly."

"I knew _that_," Al replied, slowing up a moment. "I just mean what's she doing up _here_?"

In the war zone; where they were all likely to get shot at no matter how careful they were. "They've been assigned to our division," he said, waiting for his brother to explode.

Al stopped walking entirely. His expression had gone blankly unreadable. Not a good sign. "And she's holding hands with Whitewater…."

Ed sighed. "Because they're seeing each other."

"Just what do you mean by _seeing?_" There was a dangerous note in Al's voice.

"They're dating," Ed clarified, though he felt it unnecessary.

There might as well have been thunderclouds as dark as Al's expression became. "After what happened last time…. She's seeing _him?_"

Not good! Ed put a hand on his brother's arm. "Hold up a minute, Al. What's wrong with Fischer?" He asked the question straight out.

Al stared at him as if he had gone crazy. "He's a womanizer and a party animal."

"He's no worse than Havoc or Breda was when they were single," Ed felt the need to point out. Except where Alyse was concerned, Al had never once made a comment or complaint about Cal Fischer's choice of lifestyle. "Even if you don't like his habits, he's hardly a bad guy and those are Alyse's issues to be concerned with, not yours."

"I'm not sure I'd have let Breda or Havoc date her either," Al replied with a surly shake of his head.

"Stubborn," Ed snorted. "They're good friends and good people. Cal's had it rough; losing a leg, going through auto-mail rehabilitation, and his mother died while we were out West."

Al winced at that, but at least now he looked a little more thoughtful, if still displeased.

Ed pushed on. "Yeah he's a little rough, but he's no worse than any other guy and it's obvious that he's in love with her. What are you going to do? It's not like she'd listen to you anyway. Get over it and be grateful that she's found someone who treats her well."

"He does?" Al asked cautiously.

Ed nodded. "Like royalty." If there was one thing he could say for the kid, it was that he did know _how_ to treat a lady. "He hasn't looked at another woman in months – even before they got together," he felt the need to add. "I've been keeping a close eye on them," he admitted.

"Well there's that at least." Al looked mollified. "I just don't know about this."

"Hey, everyone's allowed to worry about their little girl," Ed smiled. "But you've got to remember, Alyse broke up with him last time, not the other way around, and even then he saved her from those thugs."

"True."

"Do your daughter a favor then, and don't chase him off."

Al shook his head. "You know, Ed, sometimes you're a real hypocrite."

Ed blinked, then shrugged. No, he hadn't exactly been fair to Franz at some points. "Everybody makes mistakes. I'm just saying, there are plenty of worse guys out there she could have fallen for than Fischer."

Al said nothing for several seconds. Then he sighed. "You have a point."

"Only one?" Ed quipped.

Al glowered at him. Then his expression softened. "I just don't want to see her get hurt again."

"None of us do," Ed smiled. "Promise you're not going to rip his head off?"

"At least not today," Al replied. At least he meant it.

"Good, then let's eat." Ed moved forward again, reassured that things weren't going to explode just yet. "You're not the only one who's hungry."

* * *

When Edward recounted the conversation to Winry later that afternoon in camp, she gave him a bemused look. "I'm surprised to hear you stand up for Cal and Alyse."

Ed looked up at her, leaving off cleaning his boots for a minute. "Why shouldn't I? I meant what I said," Ed replied, as he watched Cal and Sara sitting and talking quietly on the other side of camp. His brow creased slightly.

"What's wrong, Ed?"

"I know Sara got over being angry with that guy a while ago, but it's still weird to see them on good terms." She had been reasonably antagonistic with Cal years ago, and still not too thrilled with him after Aerugo. It wasn't hatred, but it seemed to swing between toleration and disgust. Or it had. Now they seemed relatively friendly. A good thing, he supposed, given the latest turn of events. Still, it took some getting used to.

Winry's eyes looked in the same direction. "You don't like it?"

Ed shook his head. "I'm just not sure I understand why she was so antagonistic towards him in the first place."

"You really are oblivious, Edward."

That was not the comment he had expected. Ed looked over at her. She had gone back to mending a raveled seam on one of his uniforms. "Okay what did I miss?"

Winry shook her head. "I promised Sara not to tell, but if you actually apply logic to the situation I suspect you'll figure it out."

Ed hated it when Winry was cryptic, especially about one of their children's personal secrets. But then, that's what they were. Sara's anger at Cal had seemed the worst when it involved the rather open dislike between Cal and Maes that had been blatantly obvious to any alchemist in the military. When Cal had helped save Maes from court-martial that seemed to be the end of it.

That was as far as he could get on that train of thought. So, what about Sara's thoughts on Cal and Alyse? He knew Sara hadn't been happy about them going out a few years back, but now she seemed a lot more supportive of the idea; or at least she was staying out of it. She cared about Alyse, but the two had never been particularly close. They were so different. Why would Sara involve herself that much in her cousin's personal life over Cal specifically? She never had with Alyse's other boyfriends.

Boyfriends; Ed's mind made a logic leap that left him shaking his head. _No, no way._ His mind flashed to the conversation he'd had with her a few years ago, when Sara was first pregnant with Trisha and upset about it. She'd told him straight out that Franz was _not_ her first lover, but she had refused to say anything else about the subject because it had already been a long time before. "Wait… you're not telling me they were involved?" His head jerked around and he stared at Winry.

Winry shrugged, but a small smile played on her lips and he knew he was right. "It took you long enough to figure that out, Ed. I did quite some time ago, but you know how she hates to disappoint you. I think she was probably more worried you'd take it out on Cal."

"I probably would have," Ed replied, surprising himself that he did not feel the urge to do so now. It was so long ago that it really was past history. "Wow."

"If you say a word to her about knowing…"

"I won't," Ed cut Winry off. "It's irrelevant now." He didn't have to like it, but he couldn't say anything. He didn't have the right. If it happened before she got together with Franz than what did it matter?

"You still stand by what you said about Cal earlier?"

Ed had to think about that one for a moment, but he nodded. "Yeah, I do. Just please don't make me think about this too much or I might change my mind."

"All right," Winry chuckled, leaning over and kissing his cheek. "Just remember, I'm proud of you."

Ed almost asked what for, but decided it was a question that didn't really need asking. Her expression said it all.

**May 1****st****, 1964**

"How's that feel?" Ethan asked as he sat back away from his patient, sweating slightly from a reasonably long transmutation session. He had been driving back and forth between the front and North City just for these treatments.

Lying on the bed, Ollie Larson looked uncomfortable, but not in agony. "Weird," he admitted, "but not as agonizing."

"Good," Ethan nodded, taking the glass of water one of the nurses offered. "That's the last time I'll be able to come down here before the army marches again tomorrow." He had been doing his best to correct and encourage whatever proper healing could be done with Ollie's splintered legs. Dozens of breaks and splits had been effectively reconnected with alchemy; guided carefully so that they would stay inside his skin and heal back they way they were supposed to. The muscles were connected again where they had separated. It was still going to take months of healing and then therapy before he would be able to use them. "The legs should heal up just fine now."

"What about the foot?" Kit asked from the other side of the bed, where she had been lurking with a worried expression.

"I can't feel it," Ollie replied.

"Then I did my job right." Not that it felt very satisfactory. Ethan drained the glass of water. "They'll still give you a painkiller, but you shouldn't feel a thing when they amputate." The foot had been unsalvageable; smashed almost beyond recognition and shredded muscularly. "I've simply turned off the nerve receptors from the point down where they'll need to amputate, and then attach the auto-mail when you get that far. The nerves work, so after they reattach it you'll need to have the endings reactivated. I've already sent the information on down to my partner. She will be happy to assist with that part of surgery."

Kit fidgeted, but Ollie nodded in acceptance. "Thanks, Ethan. It's better than losing both legs."

"That's for sure," Ethan nodded. "And you're welcome. They're already making arrangements for your care at Central Hospital until you're well enough for out-patient care."

"I guess it's a good thing my folks still live in Central," Ollie replied with a tired grin.

"Definitely saves on hotels," Ethan agreed. The Larsons still lived next door; that meant Kit and the kids would have someplace to stay. He grinned. "Especially when it comes with free babysitting."

That finally elicited a smile out of Kit who, despite Aldon's descriptions of her, had been much more subdued than Ethan would have believed. Not that he found it unexpected after everything their family had been through. "So we'll see you in Central."

"As soon as this is over," Ethan smiled. "And you'll have plenty of company. Aldon and Cassie are staying at our place for a while, and all the kids are there."

"Great." At that, Kit's face lit up. "Sam and Millie will be thrilled to have someone to play with."

"Well they'll have plenty of someones," Ethan chuckled. "Sara's kids spend a lot of time over right now too, and Will and Ren's two are often around. Don't worry. They'll like Central."

By the time Ethan felt ready to go and finished his conversation it was too late to grab food before having to hop in the next truck heading back to the front.

He hopped into the passenger seat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes and listening to the rumble of the motor and the ground going by underneath them.

"You all right?" Danny Wise, one of his fellow physicians, asked from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I'm all right," Ethan replied. "Just tired. I wish I could have saved Larson's foot."

"You've already pulled a near miracle saving his legs," Danny pointed out. "What more did you expect?"

"Expect, nothing," Ethan admitted. His work had been amazingly successful really. "I just wish I could have saved him a little more agony. Physical therapy for his legs on top of auto-mail… I don't envy him." Ethan opened his eyes and held his hand up in front of his face. There were days –many of them- when he honestly forgot that two of his fingers were auto-mail. Unless they needed maintenance, they were just a part of who he was. He hadn't had them operated on since he was a kid. The cold weather up here, however, had made them a near daily reminder in bad weather, when his hand would ache.

"No one does," Danny nodded. "But it's got to be better than replacing two legs or living the rest of his life in a wheelchair right?"

Ethan smiled. "Yeah, it is that." His stomach growled, and he began to wish he had held up the truck or missed it in favor of a meal.

A piece of beef jerky appeared in front of his face. Danny – one hand on the wheel – was grinning. "Eat that. Your stomach's bugging me."

"Bugging you?" Ethan didn't argue though, taking the scrap of meat and biting into it hungrily.

"Yeah, it reminds me that I'm hungry, and I ate less than two hours ago," Danny snickered. "So eat that and try not to remind the rest of us that there are guys like you who can eat whatever they want."

Ethan chuckled. "Sorry. I'll try to look less underfed in your presence."

"Thank you."

They bantered and chatted all the way back up to the front. It was a several hour drive now, and it was evening by the time they pulled into camp. Ethan hopped out, but stopped almost as soon as his feet touched the dirt. "What's going on?" There was quite a crowd gathered in the distance, and he could hear chatter. They didn't sound upset though; more excited.

"I don't know," Danny admitted. "Are those trucks Xingese?"

Ethan squinted in the dusk light. "They could be." Suddenly his interest perked. If they were from Xing… "Could they be troops?"

"Not many if they came in a few trucks," Danny snorted. "Let's go find out."

They had to push through the crowd at first, which did seem to be in a state of celebration. "What's going on?" Ethan asked out loud as they stumbled into a break in the swarm into the ring in the center, under the tall flood-light that was the only bright spot in the falling darkness.

"Ethan!" His father appeared out of the chaos, grinning broadly. "Good timing."

"For what?" Ethan asked.

"Reinforcements," Ed's smile was almost too smug. "Come on. They'll be glad to see you."

"Me?" Ethan followed, startled, to the smaller circle within the big one. There were Xingese people all right; perhaps fifty of them. And standing, smiling near the center with Breda, Uncle Alphonse, his mother, Kane, and the other higher-ups… a woman who looked much like Ren, only a bit older, though still lovely and elegant.  
Mei Xian, mother of the Emperor of Xing, smiled broadly and forwent Xingese traditional greetings to hug him. "Ethan, how good to see you!"

Stunned, Ethan hugged her back, then stood straight and bowed out of reflex. "Ma'am," he smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"A special delivery; a gift from the Emperor of Xing to Amestris," Mei winked. "Fifty of Xing's best."

Best… as Ethan looked around at the men – and women, there were quite a few – standing around them, their garments, and their range of ages. Then he understood. "Fifty alchemists!"

"What could be better than having fifty alchemically trained doctors on our force?" his father commented, still looking gleeful.

Apparently Ethan had missed the formal arrival and greeting, but he didn't mind. He laughed instead. "The Drachmans will think we're resurrecting people." Fifty people, at least as good as himself; plenty probably better, could save so many! "Are they combat ready?" He asked anxiously, realizing that could be an issue.

"Would I bring anything less, Ethan?" Mei chuckled with a little shake of her head. "These are the finest surgeons and military doctors that Xing could offer. That means, of course, that most of them are at least as talented as I am."

Having seen her fight – and use distance transmutation to do so – Ethan couldn't argue. He joined in the celebration readily then, his exhaustion momentarily driven from him by joy. The Drachmans weren't going to know what hit them!


	33. Chapter 33

**August 9****th****, 1964**

"It's the best piece of battlefield we've seen yet," Breda commented to Edward as they looked out beyond the lines, down the slope to the mountain hills beyond. There were mountains about a mile to either side, which would prevent flanking. It also meant they had no choice but to confront the Drachmans here. The good news was, this was a good place for it. The road and the train tracks straddled the space, and if they claimed this area, they would be in perfect striking distance to reclaim the last good sized town south of Briggs; Buzcoul.

Ed nodded, surveying the scene. "What I'm worried about is _them_." He held up a pair of binoculars and gestured towards a spot in the center of the front of the Drachman line. He knew Breda would be able to see who he was referring to; the knot of Drachman alchemists in the middle; _lots_ of Drachman Alchemists.

Not that the plan didn't account for that. Intelligence said that the Drachmans had put a lot of their Alchemists in one transmutation circle, so to speak. Rumors even said that Tamirov was there. Ed hadn't spotted him yet, but he believed it. The number of chimera cages behind them spoke volumes. Yes, the Drachmans meant business.

"That's why the objective here is to take out as many of the DAs as possible," Breda replied with a succinct nod. "Kane assures me everyone has their orders."

Ed nodded. "We do." There had been plenty of meetings with all of the Amestrian alchemists, now all gathered and condensed once more, and supplemented with Xingese alchemists where possible. It was still depressing to realize there were only seventy-six Amestrian alchemists left. "We've got a last meeting tonight." The fighting would begin tomorrow. The Drachmans were desperate and they didn't dare let the Amestrians take the time to get really comfortable with their spot and their surroundings before attacking. It had been a long, bloody fight pushing the Drachmans back this far over the past couple of months. Several towns had been liberated along the way. Perhaps more importantly, the Drachmans had not made new attempts on any front other than this one. They seemed to have learned that lesson.

Though getting into a firefight here would be like getting into a firefight in a barrel. The losses would be greater than either side wanted to risk. That, of course, was another reason Ed knew that the alchemists would fight tomorrow first; possibly without major backup of firearms.

"I don't think most of us are planning to get any sleep," Breda grunted, his expression serious.

Ed nodded. "Everything feels grim tonight. Like this is it, even though it probably isn't."

"I'm not the only one who feels it, good," Breda replied with a sideways glance. "I thought I might be going crazy."

"No. It's like there's a storm coming, even though there's not." Ed glanced up at the sky. There were clouds tonight, but they were scattered. Stars were starting to come out as the last light was fading. Behind the wall their alchemists had set up – behind him and Breda – hundreds of campfires accommodated thousands of soldiers. "It's a first for the world, unless it's been lost to history; a battle between warring groups of alchemists on a massive scale." He sighed. "I wish I wasn't here to see it."

"Funny sentiment from a man who has specialized and created more alchemical combat techniques than anyone else in the country," Breda commented wryly.

"And challenged the Flame Alchemist to combat?" _More than once_. Ed chuckled, hands resting lightly on his hips. "Yeah, I know. I've spent my whole life running into fights. I just hate to see it come to this now, when we've come so far; when our State Alchemists are no longer the vilified monsters some of us used to be. We've built so much, and tomorrow a lot of really good people are going to die." No matter how well they fought, more people he cared about, however casually, were going to lose their lives.

"Certainly not the proving ground most people would choose," Breda agreed. "So what are your plans tonight?"

"Not the riotous partying I'm sure the younger guys would prefer," Ed admitted with a laugh. "We've got to try and get some sleep after all. But the family's gathering. Those of us left fighting are all up here now, and who knows what'll happen tomorrow."

Breda looked depressed for a moment. It didn't take much to guess why. None of his family was here. As much as that was a good thing, it had to be rough.

"You know," Ed said, "You're always welcome to join us."

Breda turned his head and chuckled. "I just might if they'll let me have the freedom. I expect there's a line of folks standing outside my tent waiting for me so they can bother me with not-so-petty details."

"Which is why you're standing on this wall looking busy."

"Exactly."

Ed left Breda on that wall a few minutes later and wandered his way through the camp. The alchemists' enclave – for want of a better name – wasn't too far away, but he wasn't quite ready to join everyone else. Not that he had anonymity anymore, even wandering around in the dark. Still, while he was noticed, he was usually left alone. _I guess being a legend is good for something._ Even if that something might be his legendary temper as much as anything else.

Ed didn't expect to run into anyone else along the wall that he knew well. The alchemists were all gathered in their camp, preparing for the morning, or probably in the mess. So he was a little surprised when he spotted a familiar silhouette – barely outlined by a nearby campfire – smoking in the blue shadows of the wall. "Tore, what are you doing out here?"

His former student stiffened, then looked his direction. Tore seemed to hesitate a moment before exhaling. "Hey, Fullmetal," he replied. Somehow, Ed suspected Tore was still waiting for him to lose it over his acquired bad habit. He had never said a word. "Just thinking."

"You're missing the party," Ed pointed out.

Tore nodded and shrugged, not amused. "Yeah, I'll get there."

"Something wrong?" Ed wasn't quite convinced yet that Tore wasn't interested in talking.

"Does it look like there's something wrong?" Tore's usual flippancy seemed forced. The look in his eyes was more sincere.

Ed shrugged and leaned against the wall next to him, his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, it does."

Tore took another drag, staring off into the distance for a while before he sighed. "I don't really know what it is," he admitted finally. "I just have a bad feeling about tomorrow."

"Why's that?" Sometimes, it just took the right subtle nudges to get guys to talk.

"We've never had a battle like this one," Tore's concern echoed Ed's earlier thought. "And I've barely been a State Alchemist a year. I know most of that's been out here but… this won't be the same."

"None of us has fought in a battle like this one," Ed pointed out patiently.

"That's what worries me," Tore blurted out before he seemed to catch himself, and stuck his cigarette back in his mouth.

Ed tried to avoid a frustrated snap. "Your inexperience is no worse than a lot of others here," he pointed out instead. "In fact, you're still a step or ten up on the ones who joined up when this mess started. You were when you took the Exam. I'll bet," he added after a moment's consideration, "that this has something to do with a girl." Even in a war zone, it often did. Sometimes especially it did when death was staring a man in the face… at any age.

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Tore looked back across the empty space towards the first camp.

"With you… it seemed like a safe guess," Ed admitted. "Someone new?"

"No," Tore shook his head. "And yes… I mean, you're not entirely wrong."

"How good of you to admit it."

Tore glared at him, then seemed to realize how foolish that was. "It's two girls."

Ed smiled, but said nothing. Another old story with his foster son. "Which ones?"

"The first one you don't know," Tore replied. "Her name's Noelle. She lives in Buzcoul, and her uncle's the one who patched me up."

Ahh. "So you're worried about her."

Tore nodded. "Who knows what the Drachmans will do if they get desperate. I just hope she's okay."

"I understand." Empathy for the people in danger, the innocents, the civilians… he felt it a lot. He still remembered his anger at finding out what the government had done to Liore. "And Charisa?"

The look of objection faded from Tore's face well before the words even tried to leave his lips. He just twitched irritably and kept smoking. "I haven't heard from her in a while."

"She's probably just busy," Ed pointed out. "College is like that, and it's not like post has been reliable lately. I'd imagine it takes a while to get anything here from Pylos."

"Yeah, I know." Tore did not look reassured. "Look, don't wait for me. I'll be back eventually."

It was a brush-off, or as much of one as Tore seemed interested in bothering with. Ed didn't push the point. "See you." Ed went ahead and moved on.

The view when he walked into camp gave Ed a better clue as to why Tore didn't want to hang out with them tonight. Winry was waiting for him, smiling. Sara and Franz were cuddled up together, and Cal and Alyse looked almost as cozy. The big difference was Alyse sat beside her boyfriend, not in his lap. Probably, Ed gathered, from the fact that Al was sitting across the fire from them, trying not to stare too much in their direction. Will and Ethan were chatting with Mei. Roy and Riza had joined the fun and were about as cozy as could be. A little ways off Maes, Finn, Polansky, and some of the others were talking.

Still, the couples kind of said it all. Tore's closest companion for the past year was enthralled with Alyse, completely wrapped up in an evening with the girl he loved. It certainly looked, from the expression on his face as he and Alyse laughed and roasted the marshmallows someone had dug up for the occasion, that Cal was well on his way to throwing away bachelorhood in the next few years. Tore was the only member left of the close crew without a significant other; even if they were absent.

Ed joined Winry, dropping down beside her and kissing her cheek. "I invited Breda," he said by way of quiet greeting. "He looked lonely."

"Good idea," Winry smiled as she offered him the bag of marshmallows. "You should have told him we had treats."

Ed chuckled. "I don't think it was necessary. I also saw Tore."

Winry nodded, her smile fading for just a moment. "He came by earlier. He didn't look interested in staying tonight."

"He said he'd be back later," Ed said, hoping it would reassure Winry without him having to go into anything else Tore had said.

"Good." Her smile returned and she handed him a stick. "Now help us eat these while they're fresh!"

* * *

The campfires were getting low by the time Tore gave up and headed back to camp. It was late enough that he hoped most people would be in bed. He couldn't stay out all night.

He was close to right. When he got back to camp the only evidence of the 'party' was the mostly empty marshmallow bag, a few sticks, and a trash bag that probably held a few empty soda and beer bottles. Given the crowd in question probably mostly soda.

Not everyone was asleep, though none of the couples were snuggled up as cute as they had been earlier. Fullmetal and Mrs. Elric had gone, so had Sara and Franz. The only folks left around the fire were Cal, Will, and Finn, sitting on the logs that had been dragged up for seating. It looked like they were passing a bottle between them.

Tore gave up and sauntered over. "I figured you'd all be passed out by now," he commented casually, dropping down next to Cal.

"Hardly," Finn chuckled, passing the bottle his direction. "Who could sleep before a day like tomorrow?"

"A lot of folks," Tore pointed out as he took it and took a small swig. He was glad it was a small one, because it was good strong whisky. He didn't need to get drunk tonight.

Will seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Tore noticed him taking short, small sips when it came his way. "See anything interesting out there?" he asked.

Tore shook his head. "Wall, rocks, camp fires on the other side." Those were small and well in the distance. "Nothing worth reporting."

"I hate the waiting," Finn commented, staring into the fire after a long swig from his bottle. "I'd rather get into the thick of it and get things done with than sit around waiting."

"Waiting ends tomorrow," Cal pointed out, tossing the very last remains of a cigarette – too small to do anyone any good no matter how desperate – into the fire. "Tomorrow we'll give those bastards a real taste of Amestrian justice."

"Feeling patriotic?" Tore asked with a sardonic chuckle.

"Maybe a bit," Cal smiled as he snagged Finn's bottle for another sip. It wasn't as much as he would normally take down; Tore thought. Earlier, when he had seen Cal with Alyse, they had both been drinking soda. Come to think of it, Cal didn't drink much with Alyse around. Not that that was a bad thing, just something Tore stored away as information that might never be anything more than passing observation.

"It feels like we're drawing towards a climax," Will admitted. "Even though we're probably weeks or months from Briggs even if we have a decisive victory tomorrow." He didn't look anxious, Tore noted. Well, not particularly. Just a little depressed. Tore wondered if seeing his mother-in-law had made Will more homesick than usual for his wife. Tore had met Mei Xian only once before, at Will and Ren's wedding when he was a kid.

"Maybe it means we're all doomed," Finn chuckled, though it sounded a bit too flat to be a joke.

"Don't say that," Cal elbowed Finn in the side with surprising vehemence. "We're not doomed. I bet every one of us here," he gestured at the four of them, "makes it off the battlefield alive tomorrow."

"What are we betting?" Finn asked as if he was taking the wager seriously.

"How about a week's pay?" Cal offered without a blink of hesitation.

Finn shrugged, then nodded and drank again. "Deal. Though collecting might get interesting if one or the other of us dies."

"All the better then," Cal pointed out with a smirk. "That means we've both got to survive then, doesn't it." He stood up, stretched, and turned towards the tent. "I'm turning in. Morning's going to be here way too soon."

Tore watched him go, then looked at Finn and Will. "He's got a point."

Will nodded and stood. "I might be able to sleep now, if my thoughts will just leave me be for a few minutes." He vanished as well.

Finn didn't seem to notice. Tore stood to leave, stepped away a few paces, then went back. "Hey," he tugged lightly on the bottle in Finn's hand. "Come on. It's bedtime."

Finn shook himself, then stood and nodded. "Ah, I suppose." Then he wobbled a bit too-steadily into the dark.

Tore actually watched until Finn ducked into his tent before heading to his own. When he got there, Cal had already crashed out on his cot on his back and was snoring hard. _Well that didn't take long. _As he lay down himself, kicking off his boots and tucking into his sack, it struck Tore as a little funny that after a year on campaign, he found the sound of Cal's snoring oddly comforting.

**April 10****th****, 1964**

Alphonse wasn't really sure if he slept or not. He assumed that there was sleep, because he found himself in Tamirov's old workshop, hunting frantically for Elicia. He knew where they had found her last time, but when he went down the stairs, he found himself in a Drachman palace instead, that turned quickly into the Drachman military headquarters they had visited. Tamirov was there, with Elicia – chained and nearly naked save for a diaphanous gown of silvery blue that was so thin it hid absolutely nothing. Elicia was crying, begging for her freedom. Tamirov was laughing.

Then they were suddenly fighting each other, alchemist on alchemist, but Tamirov was better than Al remembered; faster. Though how Al could remember that when it had been Ed and Tore who fought the man directly, he could not have said. They were fighting, and then Al had won, but Elicia was dead! Her corpse staring accusingly up at him; suddenly once more without hair, battered, bruised, and cold. Only so much more cold than he could ever remember.

"Elicia!"

Al came to himself sitting bolt-upright in his bed, panting and sweating heavily despite the cool night air. His heart was pounding and his face was strangely wet. A hand found tears. He had been crying. How long?

It was still dark out, and the lack of sounds in camp put it, Al guessed, at three or four o'clock in the morning. Fumbling in the dark, his hand found the cup of water he had left next to his cot, and Al drained it before reaching down into his pack for what remained of Elicia's last care package. There wasn't much left, but the familiar taste of one of her chocolate chip cookies was a soothing reminder. It brought him out of the dream and back to reality.

He didn't need to relieve himself, so Al rolled over and snuggled back into his bedding. Chocolate lingered longer than the dream, and while he stared into the blackness, vaguely toward his tent wall, sleep eventually reclaimed him. When he found him…Tamirov was a dead man.

* * *

Ethan's stomach was in such knots, that he awoke well before dawn; well before even the soldiers needed to be awake that morning. This was it; the first day in which he stood a very good chance of having to prove himself on the battlefield. There was no way in a fight like the one probably coming that they wouldn't need medics on the field, bringing off the wounded and protecting them. The State Alchemists would be doing everything they could to keep fighting. Bringing their fallen comrades back for care was not going to be an immediate option.

He gave up on sleep, dressed, and made his way to the Mess to find a cup of coffee and something for breakfast, though he was nervous enough that, for once, he had little appetite. As he sat there, picking his way through scrambled eggs with bits of ham and onions, he pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen.

_Lia, my darling,_

_ It's early morning. Today I go into combat for the first time. All the fights I've been in before seem like nothing given what I'm about to face, not even illness. This is an enemy who wants me to die. I'm scared. While I know you won't get this until well after it's over, it always makes me feel better to think about you reading my words later, and what your reply would be. I swear I'll be brave. I'll do my best to be careful. All I know is that right now I love you more than anything I have ever known. Please, lend me your strength. Today, I need it. _

_ Love for all time,  
Ethan _

He felt better for writing it. With his thoughts out, Ethan quickly finished his breakfast, and a second cup of coffee. Then he went to the little tent that served as the post and mailed the letter. He could see Lia in his mind, waking in a few hours, possibly unaware of what today would bring, though if she followed the news on the radio she would know quickly that there was combat today, though likely not of his direct involvement. Every detail traced in his mind as he walked back towards the infirmary tent to get ready for battle. Dawn was nearing, and soon he would be embroiled in battle.

For now, his mind was filled with silky hair and sparkling eyes, and the joyous laughter that he missed so desperately; or her tendency to giggle if he accidentally tickled her – or made a face she found funny - when they made love. That thought made him choke up for a moment and he paused to compose himself as the distance between them seemed to take on a whole new gulf.

Then he stepped inside the infirmary tent to collect his gear and get ready for work.

* * *

If there had been any option, Edward would have preferred to stay in bed that morning, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. After so much time at war, he awoke a good half an hour before he needed to, feeling surprisingly rested and alert, and simply lay there, holding Winry close for as long as he could. She awoke not long after, and they embraced together in the early morning stillness until there was no time left.

"Are you getting breakfast?" Winry asked as they dressed quickly.

Ed pulled his hair back and tugged on his jacket. "Something quick and light," he replied. "I don't like to go into combat on a full stomach."

"Since when?"

He started to retort when he turned and saw her smile. She was goading him. He chuckled. "Since I stopped getting taller."

"That happened?" Winry stood and kissed him. "I hadn't noticed."

Breakfast went by all too quickly, and they parted, Winry for the infirmary – she would _not_ be expected on the battlefield, to Ed's relief! – And Ed to collect his unit and prepare for the full frontal assault. There was something invigorating about it though, and an excitement took hold of him. It had been a while since he'd been in a good straight-up face to face, alchemy to alchemy fight. On a field like this one, he was sure to get into a few.  
_  
I guess even old war dogs can get excited. _He felt a little like a kid again – if kid meant twenties or thirties. He didn't really feel twelve. _Thank goodness. _

Fletcher was ready, looking a little worn and ragged, but in his usual calm good spirits. Ed knew he had spent most of the evening before with his daughter, brother, and nephews in much the same fashion as Ed and his family had enjoyed what time together they could. It seemed to have helped his confidence.

Carstone, the new alchemist Ed had inherited from a previously decimated unit, looked a bit uneasy but ready as well. He was a slim guy, mid-thirties, with dark hair and fair skin. He looked nervous most of the time, but Ed had figured out that was mostly the set of his eyebrows.

Finn looked like shit. But then, he usually did. Ed had hoped reuniting with more of the old corps of State Alchemists would improve Finn's spirits. Polasky, his other partner in mischief, was alive and well after all. Still, Finn did not look as if he had slept well. Ed didn't need to go near him to know he'd been drinking heavily last night, or to know he probably still smelled of stale whiskey.

As the time drew near to join the others on the wall, Ed made a difficult decision. "Finn, a word," he pulled him aside quietly.

Finn joined him promptly. "What is it, Fullmetal?"

There was just no way to do this delicately. "Are you hung over, Fusion?" He rarely felt the need to address Finn formally. Now, he needed to.

Finn shook his head. "No, I'm not."

A little too emphatically. "Are you still _drunk?_"

Discomfort crept into Finn's eyes. "Maybe… Sir."

"You know how I feel about men drinking before combat."

"Yes sir, Fullmetal."

"You know why?"

Now he looked really uncomfortable. But then, Finn of all people should remember that. "I do."

Ed nodded. "Then you'll understand why I'm doing this. Stand down, Finn. I want you in camp."

"Camp!" Horror crossed Finn's face. "Not on the walls even, or the infirmary?"

"I'm not trusting anyone's life to the alcohol-fuzzed mind of a drunk alchemist," Ed scowled. "Don't argue with me, or you'll be on a train back to Central instead."

Finn shut up immediately though his expression remained unwaveringly discontent as Ed turned and followed the rest of the alchemists to the front line. __

Sorry Sean, maybe one day you'll understand. Ed didn't ask for forgiveness. Keeping men alive was more important.


	34. Chapter 34

**Still April 10****th****, 1964**

Such was the way of things. Somehow, in some way, eventually everyone and everything would line up for combat as if by some undetermined schedule made without coordination between either parties. Lined up on either side of the line, they stared across at each other in anticipation of an invisible signal that neither knew, but would be evident when it decided to show itself. Gone were the days of _meet me at the hill at three o'clock for a fight old boy_, if such days had really ever existed.

Yet here they stood, and waited, and glared at each other across a distance that seemed vast, then closed in, and then they knew would seem much larger once more when they had to cross it, at speed, under attack from alchemy and hot lead.

When the clash came, it came with sudden ferocity, like a battle of armies in the days before gunfire, if they had known what to make of alchemy. They did not clash entirely with swords – though weapons were certainly in evidence – instead, they clashed in power. The Amestrians brought experience and – though barely – still numbers. The Drachmans brought willingness to the slaughter, chimeras, and a hint of desperation. The bear had become the hunted, and it wasn't going to take that lying down.

* * *

"Another few seconds and we've got them!" Sara heard Marcus Kane shout to her left. On her right, her cousin Will and Derrick Tringham were circling around. Maes, on the other side of Kane, was doing the same despite the chaos through which they moved, attempting to get around three very large, very angry, very terrifying chimeras that seemed to be a combination of bear, musk oxen, and woolly elephant of some kind! Snarling, howling, and swinging their jaws and long unwieldy noses like whips, they had trampled more people than they had actually injured with any purposeful attacks. They simply ran people over! When they didn't though, they were still dangerous.

The unit closed, Sara far too aware of bullets whizzing in their direction from time to time as Drachmans, unable to be comfortable with the enemy within firing range, took aimed shots with snipers to avoid hitting their own alchemists and chimeras…within reason.

While the beasts were still was the best time to capture and take care of them permanently. If the little herd held still just a few seconds longer…

A spout of flame shot up from seemingly out of nowhere and the largest of the chimeras trumpeted and squealed. One of the smaller ones made a break for it.

"What the hell was that?" Sara darted in with the alchemically made ropes they had put together just a minute before.

"Mustang!" She heard Kane bellow. That had obviously not been part of his plan at the moment. Not until they were immobilized. Running _flaming _chimeras would _not_ help the situation!

"Look out!" Will dodged a swinging trunk and ran in, Derrick behind him. The chimeras turned and wheeled and began to trample back across fallen Amestrians and Drachmans alike. "They're getting away!"

"Not for long!" Derrick shot forward, his rope swinging in a near-perfect lasso.

Panting, Sara shot after them. She saw Maes and Kane closing with her. "What'd you do?" she asked Maes breathlessly as she skidded to a stop and slapped her gloved hands together. A large wall of wind smacked into the chimeras from the front, halting their stampede.

"I… " Maes gasped, looking flustered and embarrassed.

"Oh never mind," Sara moved forward again. "Explain yourself later!"

Kane had neared the group. A colorful explosion in their faces made them wheel, but they had them now. Sara's rope was around one. Then she saw Kane's on another, and Derrick and Will's ropes around the third – the big one.

The large chimera, however, had no intention of holding still. He reared up and began to toss his head. In moments, both alchemists were in the air! "Weigh him down!" Will shouted.

Struggling with her own chimera, Sara glanced at Maes. "I've got this one! Get that one under control!"

To her left, Kane's chimera seemed to have actually settled down some under the rope, aside from being angry that the others were upset. Then suddenly there was an explosion of lights and colors about its head again, and it began to topple over.

Maes ran towards the other Chimera, and what happened next Sara wasn't quite sure. His rope went up, as it should, and caught the largest chimera – male Sara thought by the tusks – only it slipped down onto the tusks themselves.

The creature spun violently and Sara winced as Will and Derrick were tossed again. Shots ringing out all around them, suddenly both ropes broke and the two alchemists went flying!

Shit! Sara wrangled her chimera, looking for some way to actually subdue it, when Kane got to that for her, using the same trick. She wasn't sure what he set off, but the animals' brains were exploding! Ignoring the mess that resulted, Sara let her rope slack as her chimera fell. "That's gross." It was all the comment she had time for before she headed for the big one.

"Not my fault," was Kane's grim-faced reply.

The large Chimera burst into flames at the same time it's head burst.

In the wreckage of dead animals, Sara sprinted for the prone forms on the ground. "Will! Derrick!" She crouched beside her cousin, reaching him first. "William?"

Will lay on the ground, unmoving, but breathing. He was alive if nothing else! But his left arm looked broken, and there was a gunshot wound through the flesh on the upper side of the same arm. "Wow Sara… you haven't called me… William… since I was eight." He opened his eyes, his expression blearily unfocused. Still, if he could respond coherently, his head was fine.

Sara felt a rush of relief despite the occasional bullet still whizzing overhead. "Damn don't scare me."

"Next time…I'll fly instead of fall," Will snickered.

"Let's get you out of here." Sara looked around, frantic to find someone helpful in the chaos of alchemy flying all around them mixed with hot lead! A medic! She waved him over frantically. "Can you get him back to the line?"

"Sure," the medic first looked at Will's arm and immobilized it. Will grimaced, but did not complain otherwise.

"See you later," Sara promised before she turned to find the others. Will would get back with the medic's help. If he didn't, they were all likely already in more trouble than they could handle.

Maes was putting the other two chimera bodies to the torch, with Kane crouching nearby. Sara blanched as she got closer, and stopped. She had never seen a neck at such an unnatural angle before. "Derrick…"

Kane looked her way and shook his head briefly. No, Derrick was dead… on impact almost certainly. "How's Will?"

"With the medic. He should get out of here. His arm's broken and he's been shot, same arm. He'll live." Sara reported briefly.

"Let's go." Kane turned and motioned to Maes, who left off with the burning, and they hurried back into the fray.

"What happened back there?" Sara asked, biting her tongue to keep from accusing Maes of anything. What had caused him to set off flames right then?

"Something attacked my leg," Maes replied flatly, still looking embarrassed.

At least there was a legitimate reason. Sara nodded simply and followed Kane as they went after the next knot of marauding carnivores attempting to eat through the Amestrian State Alchemists.

* * *

"This was not part of the plan, Shock!" Kieleigh commented as she stood back-to-back with Tore in the middle of a swarm of small lizard-rat like chimeras with dripping fangs and terrible breath. On Tore's best guess, the things were at least highly poisonous. He could smell it.

"Well then we make a new one!" Tore argued, grinning broadly and hoping it was infectious. Maybe then he'd feel it too. They hadn't meant to get cut off from the rest of the unit, but they had been _herded_ after a combatively dueling pair had hurtled between them and almost shoved the two of them into the swarm of lizard-rats. He dropped to the ground, grateful for the large flat rocks that covered a good portion of the area, and sketched frantically. His gloves had been ripped in the struggle. A moment later a ring of electricity killed all fourteen of them.

Kieleigh grinned as he stood. "Nice work, Closson. Maybe you're not useless after all."

"Never have been," Tore countered. "You could have blown them up you know."

"This close, I'd have gotten us too," Kieleigh shook her head, then looked around. "I don't see the others."

"Then let's go take out a few Drachmans," Tore suggested. It wasn't like they were helpless kids, no matter how young or new to the military! "Before something else decides to eat us."

"Sounds good." Kieleigh smiled. Then, before Tore could blink, she kissed him squarely on the lips.

For once, he was caught off guard. "What… what was that for?"

Kieleigh laughed, "Other than to shock the Shock? Call it a thank you. I kinda like my body without teeth marks." Then she winked and pointed. "That one!"

Tore spun and a bolt of electricity hit the ground inches from the alchemist Kieleigh had pointed at. Not a perfect strike, but electrocution at that distance was still assured! The Drachman alchemist stumbled and fell, smoking, to the ground.

"And a little extra charge," Kieleigh teased.

They darted off into the crowd, and made an excellent team, Tore discovered. Even more than usual. They tag-teamed another alchemist – an ice specialist who quickly found himself dead when his ice shards exploded in mid-air and his supply of water made a great conductor for Tore's current. Then they moved on to another one. It was safer working as a pair, and Tore couldn't have asked for a more willing or cooperative partner; not who was also an attractive member of the opposite sex anyway!

* * *

Braving the field to bring in the wounded started early, and it was an experience Ethan would never forget. He had been dealing with triage and critical patients for over a year now; so it wasn't the gore that got to him, or the wounds themselves. In fact being able to do critical healing with alchemy on the field itself – better than any other first aid – felt good. He _knew_ he had saved several lives fairly quickly just for being able to be there in minutes instead of waiting for them to get off the field. Then there was dragging them back behind the line so they could go on to the care of the other doctors, turning around, and going back.

No, what really got to him was the immediacy of death; the sounds of gunfire and the feel of alchemical energy ripping around him non-stop; the shouting, the screaming, the groans of the injured. The place reeked of smoke, of ionized air, of blood… of death.

"Elric, over here!"

Ethan turned and scrambled low across the ground towards the other medic, who was next to a downed man. It turned out to be another soldier, shot while covering the alchemists. He was breathing quickly, but the only wound seemed to be in the flesh of the arm. He would live. Ethan helped hold him steady while his partner for the day, Doctor Ted Loreno, bound the wound. "All right, let's go."

Together they carried, half-crawling at times, the man back behind the line. From there, as had happened since combat started, they turned the soldier over to the waiting medics and headed back out into the violence.

Ethan felt something hot sizzle by, and had the feeling – as he dodged – that he had just lost an inch or so off the end of his hair. Glancing to his left, he saw an alchemist slinging what looked like burning rocks; a Drachman. Ethan had to fight down the urge to go take him on. Another alchemist did it just a second later as he watched.  
_  
I'm not here to fight. I'm here to save lives. _If he wasted his energy as just another combatant, than he wouldn't have it when it was needed to save other lives. And he would be doing this possibly for hours. The good news was, with the Xingese alchemists here, there were enough Alchemical doctors on the field and in the infirmary that he would not be needed more than he was.

He came upon other bodies, two dead, before he found one alive and groaning. "Let me take a look at you," Ethan said, seeing the blood leaking from the man's side. He got a silent nod in response, and proceeded to check the wound. It wasn't pretty but it did seem to have avoided hitting anything vital. Ethan set his gloved hands on the man's side and let alchemical energy flow through them both, stemming and clotting the blood so he could simply bind the wound. Who needed tourniquets when you had alchemy?

* * *

Alyse could not remember the last time she had felt in imminent danger of vomiting… repeatedly. She couldn't close her eyes but she was kept hopping from one doctor to the next running dozens of errands – fetching, carrying, finding, - for several doctors. She got clean bandages, she brought needles and syringes, she fetched needles and thread for sutures, she brought water, and sterilized instruments.

All of that was fine. It was the other parts of the job; it was when she had to carry away used swabbing red with blood, or help pull the blood-soaked clothes off a wounded soldier, or hold a man's arm down as the doctor stitched a wound closed. These were things she had not had to face except in rare moments in the hospital in North City. The military nurses had done those jobs. Now, faced with immediate combat, she got them before they were cleaned up, and she heard the un-medicated screams and groans that came with them; some men raving, other men pale and clammy in shock.

Even when she was sent into the auto-mail ward there was no release. She discovered she was needed to help assist with cleaning and instruments during an emergency auto-mail surgery! Port surgeries had to be done as soon as possible when they were damaged to avoid critical infections that might require a full reattachment or removal of more damaged tissue.

Alyse wanted to close her eyes, her ears, and her nose. She gritted her teeth, swallowed, and kept working, aware that her face was probably green. _What do they expect? I'm no doctor! _She was barely an assistant, however much Ethan said they appreciated her. A pretty nurse here… what did it matter? Half the patients were unconscious or unaware of their surroundings.

In a very momentary lull, she stopped and patted her face with a cool damp cloth. _Calm down. Keep cool. You're never flustered in public remember? You've faced down snotty Assemblymen and ferocious brides' mothers alike. _

In the tiny mirror attached to the wash basin, she noticed she still looked pale and greenish. Her hair was a little ruffled, the shortest layer falling loose from the pony-tail into which she had yanked her carefully layered locks. She took a moment to pull it back again. It needed to be out of the way.

"Let me help." Two hands appeared in the mirror and Alyse paused, until she recognized the female face behind her; serene, though not relaxed.

Mei Xian pulled a couple of sticks out of her pocket, twisted Alyse's hair deftly, and jabbed them in. In a moment, even with the stylish layering, her hair was up high in a neat, completely non-mess Xingese bun.

Alyse smiled weakly. "Thank you."

"I need you with a patient," Mei replied with a kind smile. "I'm assigning you to the post-care ward. I have permission. Come with me."

Wards were divided only by canvas walls, but Alyse felt calmer the moment they stepped out of the triage and surgical section into the quieter end of the tent. Here, the wounded had been moved to beds in rows, but were stitched and patched, healed with alchemy as necessary, and cleaned up. They still needed care however; temperatures monitored, bedpans changed, dressings checked, help drinking water to stay hydrated, and all those tasks to which she was much more suited.

Alyse felt a momentary wash of relief, until she saw the patient to whom she was being led first. At the end of the row on her right, was a familiar face. "Will!"

Her brother, his left arm up in a sling, and looking a bit bruised and battered, was sitting upright in one of the beds. He smiled weakly. "Hey, Sis, I guess I'm stuck with you."

Humor at a time like this? Alyse almost slugged him. Instead, she hugged him. "Are you all right? What happened?"

"Let's just say Chimera bronco riding won't ever catch on as a sport," Will chuckled, hugging her back with his one arm. "Shot and busted, but it'll heal up in a few weeks."

"As long as you rest," Mei pointed out with a stern expression that Alyse suspected was half for show.

"Yes ma'am," Will replied to his mother-in-law. "I expect I'll be sent back to Central after this," he admitted then. That was probably true. Alyse had noticed that anyone _not _already military before the war was unlikely to be nursed on the front if their injuries were going to take them out of combat at a time when they wouldn't be useful anymore. With this push, Will would no longer be useful except as canon-fodder.

"Good," Alyse nodded. "Then I won't have to worry about you all the time."

"I'm touched," Will snickered, "I didn't know you cared."

"If you think I didn't worry about my own brother," Alyse smiled back. "Then you really are _touched._"

* * *

Cal ducked the blast of icy air the alchemist in front of him sent at his head. It was so cold he felt the ends of his hair on his face stiffen momentarily and break off as he pulled water from the moist air around them and sent it back in the direction of the frosty alchemist. ::You missed,:: he taunted in Drachman, as the other man dodged his icy-cold water bomb, which splattered against the ground and soaked his legs. Not that it did much good that way. If he'd smacked him in the head it would have worked better.

Frosty grumbled and lunged, spears of ice whipping out of almost nowhere as his hands hit the ground and the circle he had drawn.

Cal flipped over it, then ducked and came in for a punch. Why not get physical? The Drachman alchemists - and these were better than their predecessors Cal had dealt with so far - did not seem as creative when it came to physical moves. They were trained like soldiers if anything. State Alchemists did a lot of things that were not conventionally soldiers' maneuvers. His punch connected before Frosty could move, and while he managed to deflect some of the damage, he stumbled and Cal came down on him, pulling water up from the ground and smashing Frosty's face into the bubbling mud that they were soon both an inch deep in. Frosty struggled, and Cal brought the water higher. It was a nasty way to do someone in, but the best he had given the circumstance!

When the body stopped moving, Cal staggered to his feet in the muck and looked around. Close by he saw Polansky dueling it out with an earth-based alchemist who kept flinging dirt clods and rocks the size of bowling balls. Cal sprang to his feet and ran to the aid of his fellow State Alchemist. He was less than twenty feet away when a bar of what seemed to be solidified mist shot through the air like a javelin in front of him, missing only by the barest margin as Cal skidded, slipped, and fell on his backside. _Damn that was close! _Struggling to his feet, he turned and saw the culprit in question, shooting wildly at any Amestrian Alchemist in range. Growling, Cal determined to deal with him later.

Polansky was falling back against the other alchemist's onslaught for simple lack of time to make a circle. His hands were bare save for the merest shreds of what had been gloves once. Cal didn't have time to move before Polansky froze… and began to fall backwards, no longer fighting. Cal took several lurching steps before the blossom of blood in Polansky's throat registered in Cal's brain. That weird moment where time seemed to slow and the air gel lasted much longer to him before the clamber of battle came back with a harsh sudden jerk.

Cal charged the closer alchemist, intent on killing the man who had just turned to find another target. He didn't know where the man was who had shot Polansky in his distraction, but Cal couldn't get at the gunman from here. So he ran, as fast and hard as he could, feeling for the water underneath them. There was an underground river. He could tap into that and bring it up in the middle of the basin if he wanted, but too much draw would flood it and he would kill allies as well as friends. He couldn't do that. But he could -

- His thoughts were interrupted by a howling scream he realized belatedly to be _his own_ as he pitched forward, agony crawling from his side into his extremities! He rolled as he fell, landing jarringly on his left side - the side that wasn't hurting as badly only by fortune. Everything blurred, sound receded again as everything became pain, white hot and focused. _Not again! Oh hell not again. _No explosion but he remembered the boom, the ripping agony as his leg was blown to bits, then lying there in the dirt, shooting all around. His leg had gone in war and he lay now, dirt and grit in his face, that same agonizing pain in his side, only his heart was pumping harder, his breath coming in gasps. _Stupid sniper. I'm going to make him wish he'd never learned to hold a gun. Right now... I just wish I knew healing! _

He tipped involuntarily, falling flat on his back. Above him was only sky despite the chaos. It was funny, how there could be something as simple and uncomplicated as a few floating, fluffy gray clouds hanging lazily above such a bloody, battered field. His agony seemed to recede slightly, a detachment that his mind made from the pain so awful it was numbing. He'd been shot in the side... the abdomen he thought. One hand came up to find the hole; his uniform already slick with blood.

The occasional bullet whizzed by overhead, but he seemed to have been forgotten for the moment. Or left for dead more likely. _Why not? That's what's happening. _He was dying, lying here in the chilly grass with pebbles digging into his skin. Funny, how he even noticed the pebbles with his side throbbing his life slowly out of him. If he died, would they call him a war hero? Or would he be just another body, another soldier dead in the line of duty; nobody special with no family to mourn at his graveside?  
_  
Alyse will cry. _The thought rose out of the fuzziness around the edges of his brain. She would, he knew. Alyse was sensitive and caring. She would cry for him, and for the fact he had left her alone again; worse, for breaking his promise. He had promised to live and come back. Now, he didn't think that was going to happen. He was consigned to a slow death. If he wasn't dead already it would be slow. Gut wounds that weren't quickly fatal were the worst. The whole wasn't near an artery was it? No... Had it missed organs? No way of knowing except for timing how long it took for him to expire.

A small bird winged by overhead. Despite the noise, Cal could almost hear it calling mournfully.


	35. Chapter 35

**Still April 10****th****, 1964**

The alchemist in front of him fell to his death with an undignified gurgle. Panting and hot – even up here it was almost warm in August, especially in wool uniforms – Edward paused to decide where to head next. He had taken down three enemy alchemists in quick succession on his own – dueling was not their strong point.  
To his right he saw flying exploding projectiles that proved to be emanating from two distinctly familiar figures on the battle field. _Old dogs and old tricks, but they still work, _Ed snickered as he watched Roy Mustang and Alex Armstrong light up the area around them with fire and explosions. There was a rather wide swath of nothing but destruction around them now.

Not far behind, Russell and Fletcher Tringham dueled together against a pair of Drachman alchemists who seemed to not be particularly good fighters; their legs and arms tangled in plant roots. As Ed watched, both were strangled into insensibility and dropped. Dead or not, he couldn't tell from this distance. If they were, it would be Russell's doing first.

Ed felt before he heard someone charging towards him from behind. He spun, arms coming up as he jumped sideways –

- And missed being run over by Alphonse, who went pelting past him at all speed!

Ed blinked and turned, wondering at the look of murder on his brother's face. Then he saw him! They weren't far from the Drachman line itself now, its primary rank of gunmen decimated and the rest pulling back to protect what they could and stay out of the alchemists' ways.

Standing _behind_ the milling soldiers near a rocky outcropping, looking over the scene like an artist might contemplate his own painting to decide if the composition was to his liking – stood Tamirov!

His stomach dropped as Ed realized what Al was about to do. Not that he cared if Tamirov died, especially not in a war, but what Al was after wasn't killing in defense, or merely taking out an enemy. The pure rage on his brother's face made sense now…

Al was out for bloody revenge, pure and simple.

_Why the hell do we need that bastard alive? _Tamirov was a Drachman General. That made him a valuable hostage. Ed would just prefer he died… but not like that! His decision made, he ran after Al as fast as he could sprint.

Al had too much of a head start, and Ed couldn't remember the last time he had seen his brother run like that. Al swiveled in and out of the battle as if the other combatants weren't even there. No alchemy, no gunfire, nothing touched him as he moved like a soccer player around the others, swiveling and moving towards his one goal, utterly mono-focused on Tamirov's location.

Tamirov did not seem to see him coming. Ed wasn't sure if that was a relief or not; or why he cared so much that Al might kill Tamirov. It wasn't Tamirov's death he cared about… but the way, the reasons…. _Damn it, Al! Don't do something you'll regret. I'm coming! _

He didn't beat Al to Tamirov, no matter how he tried. He felt his sides straining a little as Al leapt out of the crowd from Tamirov's left while the man was looking right, and grabbed him, pinning him forcefully against the stone wall behind him.

Ed heard the words as he struggled through the crowd _– I'm not that short anymore, damn it! – _and stumbled up to Al and Tamirov. The chaos behind them, no one was looking back. No one saw the General Alchemist trapped, one of Al's hands at his neck, the other pressed hard into his face. In his rage, Al had picked the man right up off the ground. His feet dangled a good inch from the rocks he was slammed against. "Do you remember me?" Al asked, cold anger in his eyes; colder even than the metal armor he had once been.

Tamirov's eyes bulged. "I…I…no…"

"Let me remind you," Al's grip on his neck tightened. Ed winced. "Amestrian Alchemists. You did unspeakable things to my _wife_."

Recognition dawned in that pathetically average face. "I…"

"You deserve to die." Al cut him off.

"No, Al! Don't do it! You'll regret it later." The words erupted from Ed's mouth as he staggered forward again, prepared to do whatever he needed to in order to keep his brother from making a mistake.

"I'm willing to live with the guilt," Alphonse replied, his face twisted in an expression of anguish and hatred such as Ed had never seen. His voice when he spoke was deliberate and firm; making his expression that much worse. "You're going to die. The only question that remains is how. There are so many other ways than the simple alchemy I've been using. With what I know of Xing alchemy and the human body, I could just stop your heart. Or I could do it the way Scar did; blowing your brains out by stopping in the middle of the transmutation."

Ed couldn't believe what he was hearing! He hoped his brother hadn't completely snapped.

"Please!" Tamirov begged, the sound strangled and muffled by Al's hands as he struggled in vain against Al's strength. They weren't that different in size, but Al's fury lent him added power. He _would not_ let go. "Or maybe you deserve to be a Chimera like all the other people whose lives you ended and ruined in your hubris!"

"Damn it, Al," Ed tried to get closer. "Think reasonably!" It was so strange to have to say that to _Alphonse _of all people. "Think of Elicia!"

"I am," Al replied flatly. He pressed into Tamirov's body with his elbow. The man's arms were spread, he couldn't move or even attempt alchemy. It was clear he was no better a fighter than he had been when Ed and Tore had taken him on.

"Is this….your vengeance?" Tamirov snorted despite his obvious panic. His expression contorted into one more like disgust. "All about you?"

Al's grip tightened. "This is justice," he spat. "Vengeance too if you want to call it that, but not _mine_! This is for Elicia….and Nina; Marta, Tore's mother… for _every _person whose lives have been ruined by alchemists playing around with the forbidden!" He pulled his hand away from Tamirov's face as he began to draw a transmutation circle on the man's forehead using the blood on his fingers from his own cuts. " I've studied for_ years _to try and find a way to help the people you and those like you have so carelessly used for your atrocities…and you know what I've found? Nothing! There's no way to turn truly turn them back without doing just as much harm! The only way to stop this from happening… is to stop the people doing it!" He was shouting now, though it came out as an angry snarl at the end. "And while I can't take them all on, I can deal with _you_. _This… ends… now!"_

What came next was anticlimactic except for the horror of it. Tamirov simply twitched, then fell limp in Alphonse's grasp, dead, and for a moment the world around them seemed silent despite the battle raging behind them.

From anyone else, Edward would have expected an explosion, spurting blood, something violently dramatic… but it took him several seconds to absorb the magnitude of what he had witnessed when Al's hand touched the circle on Tamirov's forehead and it had flared briefly blue. Whatever had been done, the man was dead… at his brother's hands.

Al stood, looking down at the body in silence, an unreadable expression on his face. "It's done," he said finally.

Ed shook himself back to his senses, knowing that what he was going to have to do was unpleasant. Tamirov was dead, and Ed had stood by, too shocked to do anything but watch. "And so are you, for now," he said firmly. "Alphonse, I'm relieving you of duty."

Al's head jerked and he stared at Ed, disbelieving. "What did you say?"

"I said you're relieved," Ed repeated more sternly, scowling. "You just murdered that man in cold blood. As much as he deserved to die, that didn't give you the right to do it."

"Execution and murder really are subjective aren't they?" Al frowned.

"And you're in no frame of mind to be arguing semantics with me," Ed retorted. That wasn't the reaction Ed had been hoping for. When Al killed, there was remorse, guilt… not this.

"I don't care how you did it; you just proved you've lost it. Get the hell out of here before I have to report you."

"You don't outrank me anymore," Al pointed out without budging an inch.

Ed felt his temper simmering. "Rank isn't required when an officer of the military forgets his duty and steps outside the bounds of the rules of warfare," he spat back. "You of all people should know that better than me. You're the diplomat; the reasoning one… not a cold-blooded killer. Yet here we are."

"Yes, here we are." Al continued to glower at him. There was still pain in his eyes, but a distance that made Ed fear for his brother's sanity. _Had_ Al entirely snapped? His reaction bothered Ed a lot more than the death itself.

Ed tried a different tack. "Please go back to camp, Al. We'll talk about this later." At least Al hadn't accused him of pulling rank as big brother. Ed knew that less-than-a-year-and-a-half meant next to nothing at this point.

"I'm sure we will," Al snorted, but he turned and stalked away, leaving the body lying in the dirt without a visible wound on him, yet still he was as lifeless as a rock.

Ed shivered, and watched until Al vanished into the crowd. Whether his brother rejoined the fight or actually went back to the Amestrian line, he had no idea. He looked down at Tamirov's body, then bent down and ripped the man's insignia off his uniform – his bars, his pins, the mark that made him a general and a Drachman Alchemist, even his last name. That would be enough evidence that the man was dead for anyone. Carrying the body back wasn't necessary. Not unless the Drachmans left it in their retreat.

Ed dragged the body off to one side, just in case. Perhaps they wouldn't notice him missing for a minute or two in the chaos.

Then he turned and charged back into the fray. This wasn't over yet. _But when it is, you and I really need to have a long talk, Al. How the heck did you get like this? _

* * *

Within minutes, the Drachman alchemists fell into disorder and panic as the word reached them that Tamirov was missing. Then the rumor crossed the field that Tamirov was dead. Soon, it was that his body had been located, physically unharmed apparently but definitely dead, all identifying insignia torn from him disgracefully.  
Edward's doing, Breda knew, because as he stood out of reach of Drachman fire behind the lines, watching the events and giving new orders, he had those items stuffed into his own pocket, delivered by the Fullmetal Alchemist himself with the simple report that Tamirov was dead and Alphonse got credit for the kill. _Amestris can always count on the Elrics. _Breda felt a slightly amusement at that fact. Still, it had become something even he could rely on. The expression on Ed's face had concerned him, but Ed had only said he would talk about it with him later, and charged back out onto the battlefield again.

Drachmans began to disengage, to flee. They seemed a mere few handfuls compared to the earlier mass, and he noticed that no Drachman soldiers had come to back up the alchemists after the first ranks of soldiers had been decimated. They were out of sight over the ridge and down the road almost assuredly. _After failures lately, I bet they're not all that happy with Tamirov. _The Drachman alchemists clearly weren't popular when they weren't doing their jobs.

Fortunately, the State Alchemists were. Finally, when it turned into an all-out rout, Breda passed the orders to pull back and let the rest go. The field in front of them was a bloody, blown up, scorched, flooded, ice patched, filthy mess. The solid rock walls were pockmarked from explosions and other damage. The Drachmans, he noticed, made little attempt to take anyone with them. The obviously living wounded they dragged, but the dead were left, abandoned.

He wondered if they would return in the night for them. In the meantime, there were other things to do. The Drachmans would lick their wounds, and the Amestrians would recover and press onward. They had claimed this ground; they wouldn't lose it now.

Breda didn't make it half way back to the command tent before he was bombarded with questions and several dozen reports involving several units and the battle overall. He barely heard half of it. It would all be written down; he didn't need to remember it all now; though half was quite a lot of information. Armstrong's unit had been nearly decimated; only the Strong Arm Alchemist and one other had survived. Wounded and fatality lists topped the pile of information he was getting.

General Larkin fell into step beside him. "So what would you call it?"

Breda sighed. "Technically it's a victory."

Larkin glanced past him at the field, and Breda knew they were thinking the same thing. It was an awfully costly victory. The numbers were toting up fast. Those he heard. Estimating over three quarters of the Drachman Alchemists dead, but at what cost? Another twenty or thirty State Alchemists dead, plenty of wounded, and several mission in action until they finished scouring the battlefield and counting bodies. He hoped they found more living. He would need to give a report to Rehnquist in the next couple of hours, and he really wanted that report to be more good news than bad.

* * *

Alyse felt relief when more family began to come through the Infirmary doors; all with minor hurts. She saw her father come through briefly, though he went straight through to Will's bed, and was gone before Alyse had a chance to talk to him. Uncle Edward came in to check on his injured men, check in with Aunt Winry, then vanished again as well; busy Generals. She knew Ethan was all right. He had come back already and gotten to work in his usual manner despite looking exhausted.

That left only one relative still out in the field, and Sara came in half an hour later with Marcus Kane and Maes Mustang, all of them to get patched up for relatively minor scrapes. More familiar faces filed in as she worked; family friends, passing acquaintances from the hallways of Central command, and plenty of people she didn't know. Even Tore dragged in, looking tired and beat up, but alive and well.

One face was not among them. The more time passed, the more fear clutched in her heart; she began to feel uncertain.

As she saw Sara and the rest of her unit – all that had survived she found out – start to leave, Alyse hurried over. "Sara!" She didn't bother with anything official. "Have you seen Calvin?"

"Fischer?" Sara's expression dropped into a frown. "No. I haven't. Tore will know, or the Emerald Alchemist. That's her unit."

Alyse felt foolish for not thinking to ask them first. "He just… I haven't seen him." He would have come here even if he wasn't hurt, right? He would have come to find her, and tell her he was okay. Or was she being foolish?

"Wait just a moment," Kane interrupted as someone hurried up with a handful of papers. "What is it, Sergeant?"

"Fatality reports sir," the man saluted and handed them over. "Injured, and accounted for remaining Alchemists as well.

Alyse felt like she was choking as Kane scanned the pages. Maes and Sara looked just as anxious.

Finally Kane looked up. "Twenty-four State Alchemist confirmed dead, another twenty wounded, seven unaccounted for."

"Whitewater?" Sara asked.

"Missing officially. There's an unconfirmed report that he was shot."

Alyse felt her feet carrying her towards the exit before she realized she had thought to move. She hadn't thought. She had to find him!

"Wait!" Firm hands on her shoulders, unyielding, stopped her. Alyse turned and looked at her cousin. "We're going back out to help locate wounded that are still alive on the field," Sara informed her. "If Cal's wounded out there, we'll find him."

If he was dead, they would still find him. Alyse fought back tears. Silly, stupid things. She had no proof that he was dead; just missing. She refused to believe he was dead. Had the Drachmans taken captives? That thought sent a horrible shudder through her. After what they had done to her mother…. "Oh, god!" She fell against Sara, hugging her tightly. This was just too much on top of everything else. "Find him! Please!"

"We will, whatever happened," Sara replied somberly. It struck Alyse that Sara was just as worried about Cal now as she was. They all were. However much Alyse loved him, they cared just as much in their own ways.

Maes and Kane, blessedly, seemed to be averting their eyes from her spectacle. "Right." She stepped back and stood upright; composure, she needed it. "Thank you," she said softly to Sara before hurrying back towards her duties. She just couldn't take it standing waiting. She would keep herself busy, and wait.

* * *

Upon his final return from the battlefield, Edward asked about Alphonse and, finding that his brother had apparently visited Will and then gone directly back to his tent, decided it might be best to leave him alone for a little bit to cool off. Besides, he was a little afraid of what Al would do if he pushed him right now.

After checking in with Winry, and his remaining unit members, and talking with Kane – not the most pleasant conversation even after winning the ground and dealing a heavy blow to Drachma – he decided he needed a way to kill more time before confronting Al again, or having that detailed discussion with Breda or Kane about his having technically relieved Al of duty. All he told Kane for the moment was that he thought Al needed some time to himself after taking out Elicia's tormentor for good. Kane had agreed readily. No one would bother Al while he composed himself. He would be needed later.

So Ed wandered, checking in on people he knew. He found Tore in camp, sprawled out in a folding chair, smoking a cigarette and chatting with Kieleigh. He looked up sharply when Ed walked into camp. "Any word?"

Ed didn't need to ask who he meant. He shook his head. "Not yet." No word on Cal Fischer. Two of the missing Alchemists had turned up among the dead on the battlefield so far. Five were still missing.

Alex Armstrong – unit decimated – was also in camp, quietly mourning the loss of his comrades, though Ed put up with a hugely embarrassing bear-crunch hug. He just smiled and hugged the Strong Arm Alchemist back. It was easier that way. He had gotten used to it over the years.

Before he left, Ed spotted Roy and Riza coming his direction. Riza, he noticed when they approached, smelled of gunpowder. He knew who she had been protecting today. Roy flashed him a cocky grin despite his own obvious fatigue. Well, obvious to Ed after so many years. "Nice to see you didn't die, Fullmetal."

"Same to you, Mustang," Ed couldn't help chuckling. Roy's tone was as playfully condescending as ever. There was comfort in familiar patterns. "I'm amazed they didn't drown you in a puddle."

"Or take you out with a magnet," Roy quipped in reply. "Or perhaps squash you under a shoe. That would be more effective wouldn't it?"

"Oh enough," Riza sighed and rolled her eyes, though there was the barest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. "Will you two ever stop?"

"Never," they said in perfect unison.

"Have you seen Maes?" Roy asked then, dropping the banter.

"Seen and gone," Ed nodded. "Kane's unit is still sifting through the dead. I don't envy them the task."

Riza grimaced. "Unpleasant would be an understatement."

"We'll see him later then." Which, Roy meant to be an _I'm extremely relieved my son is all right. _

Ed understood and nodded; excusing himself and going on his way again as they headed for their tent to clean up and unwind. He finally made a turn through his own camp again, aware of the quiet. Where was Finn? He poked his head into the man's tent. He was there, lying flat on his stomach. He was about to ask what he had been up to when he realized that Finn wasn't unconscious. He was shaking. "What's wrong?"

Finn jumped, startled, and stared at him. Then anger crossed features marked with grief. "Polasky's dead."

He should have known the reason. That was Ed's first thought as he brought his mind back to something other than the battlefield and friends. In the West they'd lost Lordes. Now Polasky was dead. Both of Finn's best friends, and he hadn't been able to save either of them. "I heard," he replied simply.

"That all you've got to say?" Finn snapped.

"What do you want me to say?" Ed replied flatly, scowling. "It's a war, Finn. No matter we do we're going to lose friends, maybe family. It's the risk we've been taking this whole time. Polansky knew it. Lordes knew it. They were good guys. We'll mourn them, but not at the expense of losing the war they died fighting. Now accept it, and pull yourself together."

"What if I don't?"

Insubordination was not his plan this evening. "What makes you think you have a choice?"

"I followed my orders, and I didn't have a chance to save him. Why should I do it again?"

"You don't have to," Ed shrugged. "But if you don't, you'll be discharged and sent home. In fact, that might not be a bad idea."

"What?" Finn jolted to his feet unsteadily. If he was sober or drunk in his grief, Ed wasn't entirely sure. He wouldn't place bets either way. There was no question Finn was losing it.

"I don't want you to die out of stupidity," Ed pushed on with the discussion. He seemed to be doing a lot of disciplining lately. "You've got a girlfriend right?"

"Yeah," Finn nodded. "Sandy."

"You gonna marry her?"

"I… I've thought about it," Finn replied. "What's that have to do with anything?"

"Everything," said Ed. "Think about what your dying would do to her. Think about going home, when we're done, and crying in her arms, and telling her how much she means to you, and how grateful you are she's safe. It's better than the alternative."

"Which would be?"

"Her getting a letter I had to write telling her you're dead and she's going to have to get over you."

That seemed to make the point. Finn slumped, and sat down again, one hand running roughly through already tousled hair. "I…. I'm sorry, Fullmetal."

Ed placed one hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Rest, and stay _sober_ or I'll kick your ass back to Central myself."

"Yes, Fullmetal Sir."

When Ed left Finn, the other alchemist seemed in a slightly better frame of mind, though he had no idea how long that would last. What he found in Fletcher's tent was no prettier a sight.

In all their lives, and random encounters and occasional visits over the years, Ed didn't think he had ever seen Russell Tringham drunk. But now, Fletcher stood beside his brother, who sat in a rickety chair, leaning against an equally rickety folding table, a bottle of something in hand potent enough Ed could smell it the moment he lifted the tent flap. Even rarer, Russell had clearly been crying until recently. No…he was still crying.

Ed looked sharply at Fletcher who, looking nearly as upset mouthed the word _Derrick. _A cold rock settled in Ed's stomach, along with an overwhelming sense of sympathetic sorrow. No one should ever have to lose a son.

"What am I going to tell Felicity?" Russell sobbed, apparently unaware of Ed's arrival. "I promised her…. I'd keep an eye on them…. That we'd all... Come home."

Fletcher pat his brother's shoulder. "He's a hero at least, Russ."

"He's dead!" Russell growled, drinking. "She'll never forgive me for letting him die!"

"It's not your fault," Fletcher continued to try and console him. "He's grown. He died for… for us."

Russell shook his head, his trademark lock of bangs hanging limp and floppy. Then he seemed to realize they weren't alone. He looked up at Ed, silver eyes bleary. "You heard?"

Ed nodded, throat tight. "I did. I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault," Russell shrugged. "It… was mine. I shouldn't have let them come…either of them."

"Felix is fine," Fletcher pointed out. "Lyssa said she just saw him helping out in the Infirmary."

"Does he know?" Russell asked.

Fletcher nodded. "He does," he replied sadly. "She said he told her he kept moving, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to."

Ed understood that feeling. "Good advice," he replied, swallowing. Talking was tough. Damn it, everyone had lost someone today. He was just grateful none of them had been his; though now he felt guilty for even feeling that much relief. "I've got to report," he said, even though it was half an excuse to get away again. He was invading here. This was a moment for brothers to share.

It was that thought that sent him out to look for the one person he still needed to talk things over with – the one he was worried about; his brother.


	36. Chapter 36

**Still April 10th, 1964**

Sara was beginning to think it would never happen when she finally spotted a familiar form sprawled in the muck beside two Drachman bodies. Breaking into a run, she dropped down on her knees beside him. "Cal! Damn it, Fischer can you hear me/"

She didn't like the look of him. His face was pasty and pale, but sweaty. She felt frantically for a pulse, trying not to look too closely at the blood – some of it now drying on his clothes – covering him. He looked cold, felt hot, but there was the barest flutter under her fingers… maybe.

"Xwei!" She bellowed for the Xingese alchemist who had joined them in their mission. "I found one!"

Xwei, a thin man with straight black hair and a thin nose, hurried across the ground and joined her. "Dead or alive?"

"That's what I can't tell," Sara admitted. "I think he's alive, but if he is he's dying fast."

Xwei nodded and put his right hand, wrapped in a silk handkerchief like the one she had seen Ren use, on Cal's seemingly unmoving chest. There was a very faint glow, but Sara knew that the energy was focused inward. The only light she saw came from the area around Cal's already festering wound. Blood spurted a moment, then stilled again. Cal's entire body gave an involuntary shudder.

Sara grimaced. "How is he?"

"Living," Xwei commented, still focused on Cal. "For the moment." He sat back, sweat beading his brow. "The bleeding is stopped, and I have cleansed as much bacteria from the wound as possible, but I cannot bring him out of shock with alchemy, nor do more than encourage his body to heal quickly. I have loaned him as much strength as I can, though that is hardly much in this situation."

"So he's not stable." Sara said.

"He may still die," Xwei agreed. "We need to get him to the infirmary for further treatment."

Sara nodded as she saw Maes and Kane coming towards her. Maes had the stretcher in case they found anyone alive. He blanched when he saw Cal, but neither of them hesitated. Sara got out of the way as Xwei and Maes loaded Cal gently onto the stretcher. It took a couple of minutes of maneuvering to do it without causing the bleeding to start again. Then they were hoofing it back across the field as quickly as they could make it without jostling him too hard.

"He looks like a corpse," Sara commented when they were gone.

"He almost is one," Kane replied grimly. "Keep working. Let's see if we can find anyone else that hasn't succumbed just yet."

Sara nodded and kept moving. This was her job. Someone else would take care of Cal. He was in the hands of the doctors now.

* * *

The constant chaos had dropped to a dull roar; a patient still in surgery, a couple being patched up, but mostly those too injured to go back to their tents were lying still, dosed with as much pain medication as they could afford to give anyone; those with the worst pain getting more, though probably less than they would have preferred.

Ethan was beat, wrung out, and ready for a break when he heard a shout, and then a rush as another emergency case arrived at the door. He turned, amazed that someone was still alive! He joined the other nearest doctors as they hurried to see the patient, and was brought up momentarily when he saw Cal Fischer and the condition he was in. Around him he heard the hurried reporting of his condition; shot to the lower abdomen, lost blood, infection, fever, shock…

"Who is it?" He heard Alyse's voice behind him, and he spun, seeing the stretcher continue on by, two Xingese alchemical doctors and a regular medic right there, as her worried face came into view.

Ethan didn't want to tell her now, but she would know soon enough. "Fischer," he replied. "They found him."

Apparently he didn't look reassuring. "They said he's alive, right?" Her hands were clenched tight together, an atypical gesture for her.

"For now," Ethan nodded. "It… it doesn't look good."

"Don't say that," she shook her head firmly. "He's too stubborn to die if they didn't kill him already." She tried to move past him, but Ethan put a hand out, stopping her. She glared at him. "I want to see him!"

"Not yet," Ethan shook his head. "You'd just be in the way, Alyse. He's got two alchemists working on him and another doctor." He gestured in that direction as he saw the forth medic, unneeded, head out to tend other patients. "They'll heal him all they can with alchemy, dose him with antibiotics, and they've got to clean the wound and stitch him up now if he's going to have a chance."

She obviously wanted to argue, but logic slowly overcame panic. Tears welled in her eyes, and Ethan cursed silently. That look could move mountains. "When they're finished, I'll let you know and you can see him. But not before they give permission for anyone else to get near him."

Alyse nodded, looking a bit at a loss for what to do next. Ethan felt sympathetic; today had been a bit of a shell-shock for him too, despite his life experiences outside of Central over the years. Will injured, Cal dying; she looked as much in shock as anyone else could. "Do you need a break?" he asked quietly. "No one would blame you." It was only mid-afternoon, but it felt like it ought to be nightfall. Perhaps it was the thick clouds moving in again overhead outside the tent.

"I wouldn't know what else to do," Alyse admitted, shaking her head. "I want to be close."

She didn't have to say _in case he doesn't make it. _Ethan nodded. "Then we could use some help with sterilization and clean up. How do you feel about laundry?" They had some large pots heating on fires outside of the tent for the purpose of bleach-cleaning all the towels, sheets, and other fabric items that had gotten dirty or bloody in the events of the day.

"It's better than nothing," Alyse replied before she turned and, with several glances in the direction they had taken Cal, headed towards the other end of the tent.

Ethan sighed and went to go find Winry while he took a short break. The last auto-mail patient had left not too long before, and he could really use some time in the presence of his mother.

* * *

The area around Alphonse's tent was quiet when Edward arrived. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. It was the edge of camp, near the back of the alchemists' area. While there were alchemists gathering around in circles further towards the center, no one was out this far. Yet Ed was sure that Al was still in his tent. A couple of people had seen him go in, looking like a thunder cloud, and no one had seen him come out. Taking a deep breath, he paused outside of his brother's tent. He might as well get this over with.

"Hey, Al, you in there?"

He heard someone shifting on a cot, but Al didn't come to the tent door.

"Come on," Ed sighed. "We need to talk."

"Talk?" The cot creaked again. A moment later the tent flap flew open, nearly smacking Ed in the face. Al stood there, glaring down at him. "Don't you think you've already said enough?"

"Look I'm just worried!" Ed pointed out. "You've been through a lot lately and then you went and just-"

"Just what?" Al jumped on it. "Did what needed doing? Come on, you just pulled me off duty! What kind of crap is that? It's not even the first time you've done it, making decisions without any care for what I _really_ think. You did it in Drachma! You're always above me; shoving it in my face and completely overriding my authority."

"Like you didn't pull rank on me in Aerugo," Edward snorted. "Fine, you're mad at me. So why don't you just hit me and get it over with? Will that make you feel better?"

"Don't be stupid," Al glared, looking away momentarily.

"So now I'm stupid," Ed rested his hands on his hips, "for caring about my brother."

"Stop it!" Al glowered, his eyes turning back quickly.

"Stop what?"

"Thinking like that. You wouldn't have pulled anyone else for taking out an enemy general! Especially not a bastard like Tamirov!" Al pointed in the general direction of where he had only a couple of hours before killed the man.

"No other man I know has a vendetta against him," Ed pointed out. He was trying not to get snippy; not to shout. Al was holding back despite his growling; he knew it. _What_ he was holding back, exactly, Ed wasn't sure. All he knew was he needed to find out. "I didn't see anyone else murder a man in cold blood." He shuddered just thinking of Al's monologue; the look on his face as he slowly drew a circle with his own blood, and the man just fell dead. Ed wasn't even entirely sure what Al had done alchemically to kill him.

"It wasn't like that!" Al shouted, his face going red. "I killed him on a battlefield!"

"He didn't even fight back," Ed pointed out.

"Like you would have given him a fair chance given that kind of opportunity," Al snorted in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm hearing this from _you_ Ed! It's ludicrous!"

"Maybe it is," Ed didn't even bother trying to argue against that point. "But I know you. You're not the same sneaky son-of-a-bitch I am when I need to be."

"How would you know?" Al asked hotly as he got right up in Ed's face. "You always assume you're right!" You always think you know better than I do! That's not brotherly concern when it sabotages my life and my career!"

Sabotage? Was Al completely off his rocker? _Possibly. But how to make him understand? _Ed put on his most condescending grin. "Maybe you're right. Maybe you just didn't have the guts to hit him straight on."

Al balked at the change in tactics. "Excuse you?" He turned to head back inside.

The grin broadened. "You really think Elicia will want a spineless, murdering, coward like this? If so she's even more weak-minded now than I thought." A lie, pure and simple, but if he was thinking straight, Al would know that.

It had the, unfortunately, expected reaction. Alphonse spun around hard, fury in his eyes. "You take that back!"

Ed held his hands up in an inviting gesture. "Fight me then. If you win, I won't argue about giving you back your command. But I don't think that'll happen. I'm better than you."

"Oh yeah right," Al replied derisively.

"Prove otherwise, Al." He almost had him. "You're getting older too you know, and slower. I'm not talking some lame sparring match. I mean a real fight, no holding back, until one of us calls it." It was a risk, he knew, but there was so much rage in his brother at the moment, Ed didn't dare let him keep it inside, no matter who Al was mad at. Most likely, Ed guessed Al's anger was with himself.

"A real show down." Al eyed him warily, clearly expecting a trick. "Alchemy or no?"

Ed shook his head. "Strength on strength, your abilities versus mine. We don't need to level the entire Amestrian army for me to prove my point."

"You might," Al argued. "Cause you're about to be proven wrong!"

Ed hopped back a few steps, giving himself a little room as Al immediately stepped into a slow circling pattern, ready to leap right into a fight. His eagerness alone wasn't a good sign.

Then Al – forever the defensive strategist – rushed Ed with speed he rarely managed. Ed ducked, dodged, and brought a hit up towards Al's side only to have it blocked as his brother spun furiously and grabbed for him. Ed ducked the grapple and rolled, coming up under Al's legs and trying to take them out from under him.

Al jumped, rolled, and they came up facing each other again. Ed didn't have to wait long again for Al to rush him. This time Ed went up and over – as he hadn't in a while – and then nearly missed when Al's hands almost caught a hold of his wrists on the arch of the flip. He hit the ground a bit harder than he had intended, but without losing momentum or even his balance as he came up, twisted, changed directions in a feint, and then managed to land a blow on Al's right side.

That only made his brother angrier. Al redoubled his efforts and despite being obviously tired – they both were, doing this after hours in battle! – he managed to land a glancing blow to Ed's left shoulder. Ed eased into the blow, bending his knees and letting the force of Al's strike be blunted and lessened by his momentary yielding.

They struck and retreated; Ed falling into a quick pattern of attacks that made use of his still-formidable aerobatic abilities. Al's defensive solid style was disrupted by the unusual anger and force though, and that made it harder to anticipate his moves. Fortunately, Al seemed to be slowing a little; tiring sooner. His movements weren't quite as crisp.

Still, it was Al who finally managed to get a grip on Ed and take him to the ground, from there it turned into a grappling match, with Ed wriggling like a fish as he got out of a variety of holds, and Al shoved his way out of the same. They had always been evenly matched. But today Ed's idea of winning wasn't the same as usual. This fight didn't end until one of them called it, which meant it could go on until neither of them could take it anymore, or he could end it.

He finally got the moment he was looking for and took a cheap shot – his knee going into Al's stomach. His brother reacted with a renewed rush of shock and anger and pinned him to the ground, his hands going – not to his shoulders – but to Ed's neck! His face, furious red, was contorted in a way Ed had never seen before. "Call it!" Al growled.

Edward smiled calmly up at his brother. "No."

Al's eyes went wide. "What do you mean? Call it! This doesn't end until you give."

"Then I guess you'll have to do to me what you did to Tamirov. I…won't…. call it."

For a moment, Ed feared he had made a critical mistake in judging his brother's current psychological state. If Al really had snapped, really didn't feel any guilt over what he had done, then would pushing him make him actually willing to hurt Ed? He had been so furious with him earlier – had vented grievances against Ed that he had thought long smoothed over. What if Al really hated him?

His answer came moments later. Al looked stunned, angry, mildly horrified, then his grip failed and his head dropped against Ed's chest…. And Ed's little brother started sobbing brokenly.

Ed reached up, patting Al's head for lack of a better position for a hug. At a loss for anything even remotely helpful to say, it was about all he could do. It lasted only a minute before Al jerked upright and clambered off of him. Ed stood at once, worried when Al turned away. "Alphonse, wait!"

Al stopped, but did not turn around. "He didn't suffer," he replied hoarsely.

"He?"

"Tamirov." Al replied as if it should have been obvious. "I stopped his brain and heart instantly. He just shut down. He shouldn't have felt a thing." Then he turned, and walked away quickly, vanishing amongst the tents.

Ed felt cold inside, a momentary numbness that was quickly overtaken by guilt. Why hadn't he thought to ask that? Not that it changed _what_ Al had done, or the why of it; but it did make a difference. Why hadn't Al told him that immediately? Why hadn't he just said so instead of taking his frustrations out on Ed? _Maybe, _he thought, _they weren't the same frustrations. _

Al needed time, and right now Ed really didn't dare try to go after him again. Frustrated and dusty, he brushed off his uniform and headed towards the mess. He couldn't think straight, there was too much stuffing his head. When he couldn't think straight, it was definitely time for something to eat.

* * *

Cal looked worse even than she had imagined. Alyse failed to hold back some of the tears in her eyes as she sat gingerly down in the chair next to Cal's bed. He had not been moved from the intensive care area into the main patient area, but remained cordoned off from the others; one of the few still living truly critical cases. Some had died during the course of the afternoon, and others had stabilized and begun to pull through. Alyse had watched, waited, and now her heart was in her throat. She had waited five agonizing hours before this moment had finally come.

Hands wrinkled from hours of sanitizing in hot water gently rested on the pale, clammy, yet barely warm hand that lay exposed outside of Cal's sheets. He looked smaller somehow, as if the sheets of the bed would swallow him whole, despite the narrowness of a military cot; even one in the infirmary. His face was warmer than the rest of him when she touched it, flushed with color in the cheeks, despite the pallor of the rest of him. Cal's entire appearance was one that seemed full of contradictions.

She already knew from listening in, and making Ethan keep her updated, that Cal was still delicate; still not quite stabilized. He would be getting regular alchemical treatments and watched constantly until the end – whichever it was – finally came to his confinement. Alyse supposed she should just be grateful they hadn't given up on him. "You can't die," she whispered, leaning over and kissing his cheek gently. "You made me a promise, and I'm expecting you to keep it."

"Touching."

Alyse turned her head and saw Ethan standing not far behind her. "Well…he did," she went on lamely, feeling very foolish caught speaking privately to an unconscious man.

"It's time for another check on him," Ethan said without further comment as he went around to Cal's other side, pulled on his gloves, and set his hands lightly on top of Cal's chest.

Alyse hadn't had a chance to sit still long enough to observe a healing transmutation at point-blank range before. She could feel the energy despite the fact it worked entirely within the body. People might forget – or not know – that she was an alchemist. Many might have forgotten, but that didn't mean her skills were out of practice. She closed her eyes, not able to tell what Ethan was doing, other than she could feel the energy moving, and Cal's internal energy seeming to stir with it. With her hands touching his, she could feel a flush of life, a brief strengthening of the pulse.

Ethan worked for a couple of minutes before he finished. "There. Someone will be back every half an hour for treatments, probably in between for checks," he said as Alyse opened her eyes again. "He's a little better," he added with a small smile clearly meant to be encouraging. "If things go well, he ought to stabilize in the next day or so."

It could take that long? Alyse shuddered. "How…. Do you know how Lia felt when… when you were ill?" Lia had told her once, but Alyse felt the need to ask.

Ethan's smile faded, and she regretted the question immediately. "She told me," he responded with a short nod. "And it was something I would give a lot to have never made her live through. But I know, that having her there with me, even when she said she was sure she thought I couldn't hear her… I could. I couldn't respond, but I remember her through the haze of everything else. It kept me going."

That _was_ what she needed to hear. Alyse nodded, and smiled. "Thanks. I… Ethan, will you teach me?"

For a moment he looked perplexed. "Teach you what?"

"This," Alyse squeezed Cal's hand. "If it won't hurt him to have more… teach me how to help him." Sitting there, doing nothing seemed like such a waste. She had energy to give him if nothing else and she wanted to give him everything she could.

Ethan understood. For a moment he looked like he wanted to disapprove, but he didn't. He smiled and nodded. "Sure. It's really not that difficult." He pulled a piece of chalk out of his pocket. "Though in your case, I think you're going to need this."

* * *

Alphonse wandered for hours, ignoring everyone around him no matter if they waved in his direction or called out. It couldn't be important; they didn't follow him. They couldn't be important… he had almost killed his brother.

His mind cried out in angered anguish; he felt like a monster, a villain, and yet he had his reasons; he couldn't stand the apparent inability for there to be a division between what Ed thought he knew, and reality; between thinking like an officer and thinking like a brother. And it made Al's life even more complicated trying to sort it all out and make some kind of proper line.

Something had gone horribly wrong. Instead of being proud or pleased, or anything Al would have expected; Ed had called him a murderer, goaded him into a fight when he was emotionally unstable – he'd admit to both the instability and falling for Ed's prodding.

But why did it bother him so much? Why couldn't he have just set Ed straight in the beginning? Why had he _wanted_ so badly to punch Edward in his smug face? No, not just that. He had honestly wanted to pummel Ed until he understood and felt the pain Al had dealt with inside for years, especially these past months.  
He had become obsessed with finding Tamirov, taking him on, and taking him out of the world so that Elicia could have some peace. But… was it even really about Elicia? She was safe in Central, and had been the whole time. Even with Tamirov dead the war wasn't over. His death was justified, but was Ed right? Could he have done something differently? Was he really so screwed up that he couldn't see what a terrifying thing he had done? He wasn't sure anymore either way and it ate at him.

Al was surprised to find himself back near the infirmary. _I guess my mind thinks I'm sicker than I thought. _In the head anyway. Al decided to go in and check on everyone. He found that Will was fast asleep and didn't disturb him. Winry had left finally and was almost certainly with Ed somewhere. Even Ethan, he discovered, had gone on break.

He was about to leave when he heard a familiar voice speaking quietly, and he knew Alyse was still here. Al approached one of the curtains and stuck his head in. Sure enough there was his little girl, her hands tightly clutched around the limp one belonging to the Whitewater Alchemist.  
Al felt a small surge of jealousy, and then he almost laughed at the absurdity. Who was he jealous of? Alyse… waiting with fear to find out if _this_ man she had feelings for was going to leave her in the worst possible way; even worse than what Vince had done to her. Was he jealous of Cal, lying on the brink of death with the woman who loved him waiting by his side?

She didn't seem to have heard him yet, and Al found himself transfixed, watching as Alyse – looking startlingly like his mother in the dim lamp-light at just the angle he could see her face – whispered gently to him even though she had to know he wouldn't respond. It was easier though, he knew, to talk instead of sitting silent; hoping they could hear you and that they'd find their way back to you.

It was only when she stopped talking and turned her head that Al realized he had been detected. "Hi, sweetie," he commented quietly.

Alyse looked torn, and Al saved her the conflict of interests by crossing the room and hugging her tightly. Alyse dropped Cal's hand long enough to wrap her arms tightly around his chest. "Oh, daddy," she sobbed softly.

He could have imagined no more heart-felt grief and worry pouring out of any woman he knew over their loved ones. Al patted her shoulders gently with one hand, and kissed the top of her head. "Shhhh, Alyse. It's all right. Everything… will be all right."

**April 11****th****, 1964**

It was like a soothing cool waterfall running across heated agony. Sometimes the stream flowed, and he was calm and restful and floated upon it. Other times it didn't and he was ragged and parched and swelled to a furnace. Time had no meaning here, in this place. Heaven? Hell? Did it matter? There was no color save white, or black, except in dreams. He dreamed, but other than colors and blurs there remained no recollection. Were they dreams, or memories? It all blurred indistinctly until the world had no up, no down, no solid, no liquid, no light, no sound, yet all at once. Sometimes he felt almost solid; and others ethereal and free. Then agony returned, rising out of the numbness, slowly coalescing, solidifying into something. It would go away again, it always did.

But this time it didn't. He rose, as if floating, upward, and as he rose the muted sounds grew, and his body hardened. There was scent again, though it all felt coated in fluffy white cotton.

The sound was what he fixed on. It was a direction he could pinpoint, and he moved toward it; an angel's voice singing a sweet, lilting song. He knew it, yet he didn't; not from childhood or distant memory and yet he was certain it was completely familiar. In the last moments he felt like flying, and then he settled, aching but firmly solid, against stiff, clean sheets.

Grit-stuck eyes took several moments to pry open, heavy lids sagging as he saw only a dim blur of yellow, dull green, and then a moving swish of something – hair – as a head turned as if waiting for something. The moment passed, and the blurry vision turned back. The hair was brown. The song, softly hummed he realized now, returned, much more immediate in conscious ears.

The voice was real, and he knew it. Cal blinked and opened his mouth. "..'Lyse?"

She came into focus as he blinked again slowly, trying to force his senses to respond properly. "Calvin?" Then a hopeful little smile lit up her face. "Cal! Oh thank goodness." She leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Her lips felt softer than roses, or maybe deer skin, or… well, nothing could ever be so soft or sweet. Cal tried to smile, but he didn't think he succeeded. "What… what's with the face?" he coughed out.

Alyse blinked, and a cute little frown formed momentarily. "You idiot! You almost died!"

_So I wasn't completely wrong. _Cal tried again with the smile. He thought his mouth was working properly. Everything felt heavy and achy. _Drugs probably._ He could just imagine the amount of painkillers they might have pumped into his system. He only vaguely remembered the injury. Something about a bird? No wait, that wasn't right. Clouds and birds were above him. He'd been shot trying to… save… _Oh hell. _It began to come back, faster and faster. Polansky had died, he'd lain out there for hours, staring up at that stupid sky listening to the battle. It was fresh again now and it just kept coming. "Oh…god," he felt tears spring up on his cheeks.

"Cal?" Alyse's anger was gone faster than a hunted rabbit. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?" Her soft hands wrapped around his left one.

"I… I was dying," he managed to stutter out. "For hours. I thought… I thought I was going to die alone." He could not remember the last time he had cried so heartbrokenly, so full of fear. He had mourned his mother's passing, but that had been a soft kind of sadness. This grief, this petrifying fear of memory that gripped him now was overwhelming and painful in its raw violence. He shook, and quivered, and he began to sob like an infant.

"You're not alone," Alyse assured him, kissing his tear-hot face. "You didn't die and you're not alone! Sara and the others found you and there's been a bunch of alchemists and doctors in here trying to save you. And they did! You'll be fine now," she whispered fervently, as if she needed to believe it herself.

If he hadn't known he felt strongly for Alyse before, he might have been completely overwhelmed; as it was, the love he felt for her only blossomed further under this outpouring of emotion and concern entirely on his behalf. He cried for several minutes before pulling himself under control again. Still, one thing worried him. "Am… am I still dying?"

"Doubtful." He heard another voice and while he couldn't look up or even barely turn his head, Cal knew he had just heard Ethan Elric. Ethan stepped over him a moment later, and Cal looked up into his face as Ethan stuck a thermometer in his mouth and then set his hands to Cal's chest. "Hold still a moment."

The energy was weird, and yet Cal quickly identified it as his rushing stream. It felt good and he felt a little more energized. It went on for over a minute. "Well?"

Ethan stopped after a few more seconds, then pulled the thermometer out of Cal's mouth again. "Much better," he commented, smiling. That was one thing Cal liked about Ethan. He was a doctor who smiled. "Still a low fever, but it's dropped substantially. The infection in your wound seems to have been eradicated, and there's no further infections forming at the puncture sights. The stitches are healing up as they should. That will take a while, but they're holding fine. You seem to have come fully out of shock, and the fact that you've regained consciousness and can speak to me lucidly implies the fever didn't damage your brain."

"Thanks… I think." Cal sighed. He tried to shake his head, but it didn't move much. "What did you… do to me?"

"You mean besides drain four alchemists of all our spare energy to keep you going?" Ethan quipped lightly. "You've had a blood transfusion. You're currently pretty well dosed with pain medication, regular rounds of antibiotics, and we've got you on an IV for hydration." Cal felt a tap on his arm though he couldn't turn his head to see Ethan's hand or what was attached to it, but now that he thought about it he could tell there was something there. "Frankly, if they'd found you a few minutes later, you probably _would _have been dead. But you're not," he grinned broadly. "So if I were you I would just worry about getting better instead."

So much put into keeping him alive; one soldier, one alchemist. Cal thought he might cry again; an embarrassing bit of evidence as to the fragility of his emotional state if nothing else. He didn't have the energy to play it tough. "Sounds good… to me. Thanks for the… boost."

"I'm not the only one you should be thanking," Ethan grinned. "Your girlfriend's done half the work lately."

Cal blinked, then turned his eyes in Alyse's direction. She looked embarrassed, yet a little pleased. "You?"

"I _am_ an alchemist," she chuckled as she leaned over and kissed him.

It was a brief, but warm and appreciated moment. Cal smiled when their lips parted. "Well you certainly work on me."

"I'd say get a room…but this is as close as you're likely to get for a while," Ethan quipped.

"How long am I going…. to be stuck like this?" And how long would he be too tired to complete a sentence in one breath? He looked back at Ethan.

"Well you won't be here long," Ethan replied. "As soon as you're really stable you'll be on a train to North City, and probably right back to Central, where you'll be in the hospital for as long as it takes for you to be well enough to manage on your own. I suspect that will be a few weeks all told. After that, it's just a matter of letting things improve naturally."

Weeks. At least it wasn't years, and at least they expected him to stabilize and improve. It could be worse. "Do you know… anything about what Kane plans to do … with me?"

Alyse's soft fingers played with a limp lock of his hair that dangled above his face. "Nothing permanent," she replied softly. "I think he was waiting to hear if you made it."

Ethan nodded. "I'll send word and he can come talk to you himself. Though don't expect him to stay long; or any guests to stay long. You need to rest."

Cal looked right back to Alyse. He didn't want her to go! "But…"

Ethan chuckled. "That's not a guest. She's your nurse."

Alyse nodded and Cal relaxed. He wasn't dying alone on a battlefield. He was safe; wounded but alive, and he had Alyse. It all kept coming back to knowing she was there. _I really am a sucker for nice girls. _He felt exhaustion overwhelming him again, and his eyes drifted shut. "Wake me… when Kane gets here."

"I will," Alyse promised, and it was the last thing he heard before Cal drifted back into more restful sleep.


	37. Chapter 37

**August 15****th****, 1964**

"Is that more comfortable?" Alyse asked as she adjusted the pillow underneath Cal's head. The berth into which he had been transported on the train was small; one of the ones with four beds, stacked two atop each other, with Cal tucked away on one of the bottom bunks. There was another patient being moved into the other bottom bunk, she knew, and a male military nurse would be bunking atop one of them. Their bags were stored on the other bunk already – the one above Cal. Still, it didn't seem particularly comfortable, and Alyse wished they would have more privacy. It couldn't be helped though.

"Better," Cal admitted with a weak chuckle. "You don't have to make a fuss over the pillow. I'm not likely to be any more or less comfortable if my pillow isn't all that fluffy. Now, if you could find a way to make my insides that comfortable," he teased.

Alyse shook her head, but couldn't resist smiling. He was charming even as an invalid. Perhaps even more so, given that there was something just as attractive about helpless men that she knew made girls want to take care of them. "I'm doing what I can," she replied.

"I know, and I appreciate it, really," Cal assured her. "Next time I'll try not to get shot."

"Next time?" They were going home, but his words stirred a worry she had tried not to think about. He and Marcus Kane had talked more than once in the last couple of days, and both times she had been politely asked to leave his bedside for a few minutes. "So you're not being discharged then."

Cal shook his head. "No. I'm on leave, but Kane promised he wouldn't force me out if I didn't want it, not when I'll make a full recovery in a couple of months."

"You don't want it." She just wanted to be sure. It wasn't that Alyse didn't want him to do what he wanted… she just wanted to understand.

"What else would I do?" Cal asked with a shrug and another small smile. "It's what I love… as long as I avoid prolonged wars," he added. "Why?" A worried furrow appeared in his brow. "Is that a problem?"

_No, it just makes you like every other man in my family. _Alyse shook her head and reached out, squeezing his hand. "Not if that's what you want," she assured him. "I'm kind of used to it," she admitted. "Just please, be more careful?"

"I'll try." He squeezed her hand in return. "It means a lot that you're okay with this."

Alyse privately wondered if near-death experiences made all men this open. Not that Cal had ever been shy about voicing what he thought about things… except where she had been concerned. She hoped it lasted. "Well it's not like I want you to be someone other than who you are."

An impish grin crossed his face. "Does that mean you're gonna smuggle me a drink on this trip?"

Alyse couldn't resist poking him in the nose as she shook her head, trying hard not to smile. "Not on your life, mister."

* * *

The train was almost loaded and ready to go. Alyse was on it, Alphonse knew, tending Cal with all the care and affection a guy could ever hope to have from any woman. Al hoped Cal appreciated it. The train also carried Will, who had been in good spirits when Al spoke to him earlier; ready to go home to his wife and children and grateful to be done – forever he added insistently – with military endeavors of his own. He was ready to get back to his family and his research. Both of Al's children were going home alive and mostly whole, out of danger. Al almost envied them.

The person he wanted to speak with, however, was standing on the platform watching the loading. In a couple of hours the army would be preparing to push North again, using the valley as their new base camp. Holding it now, they had no intention of giving it back. It made an excellent natural fortress with its high walls and narrow northern entrance.

Breda looked tired, like he would rather be in bed at this early hour but wasn't, and that he had gotten used to the fact that he was never in bed as late as he wanted to be. Still, he smiled as he turned away from the soldiers who had just finished with him and spotted Al approaching. "I figured I'd see you here. Saying goodbye to the kids?"

He extended his hand for a shake; but Al had something else in mind. As his own hand extended, he dropped his pocket watch into Breda's outstretched palm. "Not exactly."

Breda stared at the watch a moment, then frowned. "This is a joke right?"

Al shook his head. "No. I'm done, Breda. I'm getting on the train and going home."

"If this is about the other day-"

"This isn't about Ed," Al snapped. "Or about Tamirov. Okay, maybe it is. He's dead. I did what I came to do. Anyway, I'm not talking about done with the war. I'm out of the military. Send whatever papers you want to my house as far as discharges go and I'll sign them when I get there."

"You're serious." Breda stared at him, dumbfounded, his hand still open, the watch perched there, the chain dangling in the air. "You'd be back on duty in a few more days. Don't tell me you're walking out now? Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain. I'm no good to you anymore," Al insisted flatly. He had given this thought for days. "I don't belong here. Court-martial me, discharge me, I don't care which. I'm not doing this anymore."

Slowly, Breda's thick fingers closed around the watch, and his hand lowered. So did Breda's expression. "If you're sure."

"I am," Al nodded, glad Breda wasn't going to argue the issue. "Oh, one more thing. Don't… don't tell Ed yet, all right? Not until after I've left. I want to get out of here without a scene."

Breda shook his head, clearly disappointed and unhappy with the situation. "I don't like it, but I'll do it. Go home. I'll take care of the paperwork and… see you in a few months, I hope."

"See you in Central, Breda." With that, Al turned and climbed up into the nearest car. He had a small bag slung over his shoulder. It held his letters from family over the past year, his toiletries and other personals, and a change of clothes. He didn't need much. Everything he really needed was already on the train, or waiting for him back home. He turned down the train aisle and sniffed around for a few minutes looking for the right berth. Eventually he found it; benches, not beds, but he could live with that.

There was only one other person in there at the moment; William.

"Dad," his son grinned, surprised. "Come for another goodbye?"

Al shook his head as he dropped his bag. Will's expression changed almost at once. "More like hello," Al tried to sound casual. "I'm coming with you."  
Surprise turned to shock, though if there was disappointment Al couldn't be sure; Will hid it quickly. Al wondered just what his son had heard, beyond Al's informing him that Tamirov was dead. "Mom will be thrilled to see you," Will commented instead, a smile coming back to his face.

Al smiled back. "I hope so."

* * *

"So, have you heard anything from Elena recently?"

Maes shrugged, and avoided meeting his father's curious gaze. "Sure. I got another letter just last week." He leaned back against the mess hall table.

His father didn't blink. "How's she doing?"

"Good. Really good," Maes replied. Why had Roy decided to bring her up now? "She says Aerugo has agreed to send troops finally. She doesn't know when they will get here, but they have actually begun mobilizing."

"That sounds like what Breda said yesterday," Roy nodded. "So the mission was a success."

"Yep." Maes smiled, trying to feel the pride in his expression. It wasn't that he wasn't proud of Elena. He just wasn't sure why he felt funny about it. "She said she's going to enjoy a few more days with the others in Bueáire and then they're going home."

"I bet the kids will be glad to see her," Roy smiled.

"Things will definitely be a little more normal when she gets back," Maes agreed whole-heartedly. He liked the idea of having Elena home, safe, and away from the dashing Miguel with his yachts on the sea and flashing white teeth. Or so his grin always seemed in Maes' imagination.

"Then it's just a matter of getting the rest of us home," Roy nodded. He picked up the last fried potato wedge on his plate from lunch and ate it.

"It can't be too soon." Maes looked around. "Where's Mom?"

"Having a word with a few enlisted about sloppy gun maintenance," his father chuckled, a fond expression coming over his face. "She hasn't lost her touch."

"You find Mom's drill sergeant act attractive?" Maes asked, feeling a twinge of amusement.

His father laughed outright. "If I didn't, would I have married her?" He shrugged. "She's the only person in my life, other than superior officers, who doesn't have a problem dressing me down, even in public. It's hard to resist fire like that."

"And here I thought you liked Mom for her body instead of her mind," Maes teased.

Roy snorted, still grinning. "Don't tell your mother, all right? My reputation hasn't come this far to be spoiled by our son." For a moment, Maes wondered if his father would ruffle his hair like he had done to him when Maes was a boy. The facial expression was right, but his hands didn't move.

"I won't," Maes promised. The entire conversation was making him uncomfortable, though he hadn't entirely figured out why. Or rather, he didn't really want to think about it any deeper. "Hey, Dad… have you ever worried about… Mom cheating?"

It was a mistake the moment his father's eye focused on him with a worried scowl. "Never. Why?"

"Sorry," Maes apologized, backtracking. "Stupid question. I was just… wondering."

Roy smiled a moment later and gave him an elbow in the arm. "Relax, kid. Elena's wild about you, and she'd never do anything that would hurt you or the kids. You know that, and as soon as you get home you'll stop worrying."

"You're right," Maes was getting pretty good at faking sincere smiles. "Thanks, Dad."

"No problem." Roy stretched as he stood. "I think I'll go see how your mother is doing. If I don't intervene eventually those poor soldiers will never hear the end of the lecture."

"Sure. See you later." Maes watched his father stroll off, casual and confident as ever. _He_ did not doubt his wife. He didn't even doubt Maes' wife. So why did Maes? _Because it's not her you're really worried about, is it?_

Shut up, he told the voice in his head. _When I want my own opinion I'll ask for it. _

* * *

This was getting ridiculous, Edward thought as he finished another lap around the alchemist camp. They were pulling out again _tomorrow_ and he couldn't find Alphonse anywhere to talk to him. His brother had all but avoided him for days, only ever being available when they were both required at the same meeting.

Well enough was enough. Ed hadn't checked the command tent yet. Maybe Al was hiding in there pretending to look at battle plans or something. Or maybe Breda had some idea where his brother might feasibly be.

The command tent was relatively quiet as far as it could ever be. The only people inside were Breda, Falman, Feury, and Franz; in other words, minimal office crew. Feury looked up from the communications reports. "Hey, Ed. What's up?"

"Has anyone seen Al?" he asked without preamble.

He might as well have asked if someone's kitten had died given how quickly Feury's smile slipped and he looked down at his papers. Falman seemed intent on filing something. Franz looked honestly perplexed.

Breda looked like he knew something. He was also the only one still looking directly at Ed. "I saw him this morning."

"Well where is he now?" Ed asked curtly. It wasn't like Al could just disappear.

Breda looked reluctant, but he replied. "He's on the train to Central."

That… was unexpected. "You didn't discharge him?" There was a sudden pit in his stomach.

"No," Breda shook his head. "I didn't do any such thing. He wouldn't have deserved it. Al went of his own free will."

Ed still felt guilty, but it was almost certainly for the best. Tamirov was dead and the Drachmans were falling back by the day. It was only a matter of time before they were ousted all together; at least, that was Ed's thought. At least his brother hadn't been discharged or court-martialed for what he had done. Ed wouldn't have forgiven himself, even if Al had. "Good," he smiled weakly after a moment. "He belongs at home with Elicia now anyway."

Breda nodded, and the others in the room relaxed. Had they really expected him to explode? Al deserved some well-earned leave! Hopefully the war would be over before he was needed again. "Anything else you needed?"

"No," Ed shook his head and turned to go. "That … was it."

It was just so quick. When had Al decided to go? When had he been able to finally tear himself away from the war? Ed knew that his brother had barely taken any leave at all in the past year. Perhaps it was just that, with his obsessed goal removed, he could finally relax.

Ed was feeling slightly dazed by that turn of events when he got back to the tent. It took him a few moments to realize that Winry was lying on her back, a pillow over her eyes, napping. He had thought she was working this afternoon. Quietly, he sat down on the other side of their two-cots-turned-bed, trying not to disturb her.

It didn't work. "Nnnn…." Winry shifted. "Ed?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "I was trying not to wake you."

"It's all right," she replied, one hand moving up to move the pillow from over her eyes. "I was hoping you'd join me." Her lips quirked into a tired smile at the ends, just briefly. "It's been a rough day."

"I'm sorry to hear it." Ed lay down next to her, to accommodate her desire, and laid his arm across her midsection, pulling her close. "More patients?"

She nodded and curled into his side. "Two emergency surgeries on patients I hoped we wouldn't have to operate on," she sighed. "One was a reattachment, and the other a new surgery on a leg that didn't want to heal otherwise."

Ed winced and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry to hear it."

"At least they'll both make it. Did you find Al?" She asked.

Ed shook his head. "No, he left on the train this morning… for Central."

Winry's eyes came fully open. "He left? Without saying anything?"

Ed shrugged. "Maybe it was easier. Besides, Will and Alyse were leaving. He's better off at home with the family anyway."

"That may be," Winry nodded. "But I can tell you're upset."

"Of course I am." Why bother to deny it? "He wouldn't even speak to me after the fight, even after Breda told him he'd be back on duty in a few days. I thought he wanted to see this through but…"

"But you called him a murderer," Winry pointed out. "What did you expect Al to do? That had to hurt, coming from you of all people."

Despite the lack of accusation in her tone, Ed couldn't help but feel like she might be anyway. "Because I'm his brother… or because I wouldn't have hesitated to kill him either?"

"Both," Winry replied. "You go against orders and kill enemies and do whatever needs doing without a second thought sometimes, but you act like Al's supposed to be the model of the perfect officer; always the nice guy, always the considerate one who doesn't get his hands dirty."

"Al _is _a nice guy," Ed countered.

"So are you," Winry tapped his chest with one finger. "But you hold him to a completely different standard, even if you don't try to, and then you went and treated him like one of your students."

That was true. He had pulled that particular strategy on angry students dozens of times over the years. It was actually surprising that it had worked with Al, but that had been part of what had convinced Ed of Al's change in personality and possible mental instability. "That's why I've been trying to talk to him." He wanted to apologize… again. He was beginning to think it wasn't going to do much good. "I guess I'll just have to write him at home."

"That's a good idea," Winry smiled. "You shouldn't leave things unsaid too long, and who knows when we'll see him again."

Who knew _if_ they would ever see him again. The thought came, unbidden, and Ed quashed it quickly. He had no intention of letting either him or Winry die in this. They had made it this far, and the worst seemed to be nearing its zenith or over. He couldn't imagine it being much worse than the last battle. "I'll do it this afternoon," he promised, kissing the end of her nose and then pulling her closer for a deeper kiss. "Right now, I'd just like a little peace and quiet."

"How out of character for you," Winry chuckled around the kiss. "Not that I don't intend to enjoy it."

"Good." Ed tightened his grip a little, and felt his eyelids droop. He was emotionally drained more than physically, but a little nap with Winry was sure to cure both. "You know I love you, right?"

He received a drowsy, "Yes, dear. I love you too," in reply. They were beautiful words.

* * *

The sun was going down on the North. For Will, the sun was going down on his war experience, and he was grateful for it. The war wasn't over, but he'd have been a liar if he had claimed he wanted anything more than to go home and kiss Ren and hug his kids. Michio was ten months old. Minxia was almost five years! Ren's visit on his leave months back seemed a lifetime ago. Sometimes he couldn't decide if life had rushed by without him, or slowed to a crawl.

The mountains to each side of the train turned golden, then blue, then black as the sun vanished behind them. A day on a train had taken them past North City already, where the train had stopped to take on more passengers – mostly injured being transferred to Central or elsewhere to ease the over-crowding of the North City hospitals. Then they had sped onward. Every clack of the tracks beneath him made Will feel that much closer to home.

He just wished his traveling companion seemed nearly as excited. His father had settled down across from him hours ago, and other then stare out the window or lie down and nap, he had barely said two words, even when Will tried to start a conversation.

Will had heard about the fight between his dad and Uncle Ed. It was hard to believe, but even Aunt Winry had confirmed for him when he asked that it had happened, and that his father _had_ come within a hairs-breadth of attempting to strangle his brother.

Of course it hadn't happened. Alphonse wasn't that type of person. Or at least, Will didn't think anything could change his father so drastically; not permanently. He had certainly been calm since. In fact, he was downright apathetic.

Will's arm itched under the bandages, and he did his best to scratch without making it hurt any worse than it did. He didn't want to pull it out of the sling. On top of that he needed to relieve himself, and he was thirsty. It was well past dinner, and he wouldn't mind a snack either. Scratching, he stood. "I'm going to the dining car. Want something?" It was a hopeful question. His dad hadn't bothered with dinner, or lunch either, which was as bizarre as it was worrisome. When his father was upset, normally he had more of an appetite, not less.

"Anything's fine," was the non-committal answer. He continued to stare out the window.

"Then give me a clue," Will smiled. "Soda? Sandwich? Beer? Hot dog? There might be some rice and pork left." That had been the train's idea of military food for everyone. Will hadn't complained, even if it was cooling quickly when they took it on board in North City.

He had to wait and repeat the question before "a hot dog and a beer sounds good," came out of his father's mouth.

"Great, I'll be back in a bit," Will promised as he left the berth and headed down a couple of cars. He was grateful that this was one of the trains with closed connectors between cars. They were more common these days than when he was a kid.

The dining car was not full at nine o'clock. It was mostly empty. Will ordered a cup of coffee – heavy on the cream and sugar – and turned to pick a table to sit at. It was then that he spotted Alyse, sipping a steaming hot cup herself, peering out into the darkness even though it was hard to see now, with the reflections of the inside of the train bouncing off the large observatory windows. "I thought you'd be with Cal," he chuckled as he sat down across from her.

"I was ousted by his _roommates,_" Alyse replied with a shrug. "They wanted to give him a look over before bed."

"So where are you actually sleeping?" Will asked curiously. He hadn't figured they would let her sleep in the same berth with him. It was all men in there.

"In a corner of a berth I'm sharing with a female nurse and two civilian passengers," Alyse replied, then colored slightly. "I wasn't up there half as long as you, and I already sound military."

"You've been working for them longer than I have," Will disagreed with a grin.

"Planning parties and diplomatic dinners is not the same thing," Alyse huffed slightly.

Will sipped his coffee. "No, it's not," he admitted. "But I bet you're looking forward to going back to it."

"Hell yes!" Alyse exclaimed, then flushed at the outburst. "Sorry. I know I didn't do as much as some, but I'm ready to be home. This was… a challenging experience."

"It's a war," Will said. "You're not a warrior, though I'm proud of you for sticking it through as long as you did. I often wonder how Ren and Ethan can deal with even a couple of really bad off patients at a time. That infirmary was a nightmare."

"I know." Alyse's voice quieted.

Will smiled again, hoping it would help his little sister feel better. "Besides, I think you'll have your hands full at home nursing Whitewater back to health."

Alyse chuckled. "He's always a handful," she replied. "Usually in a good way," she added quickly.

"I'm not judging," Will promised. "I'm just glad you're happy."

"I'm glad," Alyse said. "I've been worried that you and Dad would give him a hard time."

"Well I didn't say we hadn't," Will winked. "But I already told your beau that I approve, so I'd be a liar if I didn't tell you the same thing."

"That's one of you," Alyse smiled. It faded a moment later. "How's Dad? I haven't seen much of him lately, not even today. I was sure he'd come by."

Will sighed and drank. "He's been quiet," he told her. "Mostly he's looked out the window all day. He seems like he's got a lot on his mind."

"I'm glad he's going home," Alyse replied softly. "Mom's good for him."

Will chuckled. "Yes, she is." Wasn't that why most guys got married?

* * *

What was he ever going to say to Elicia? The question circled over and over in Alphonse's mind along with a dozen others. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't how it should have happened, or who he was… was it? He hadn't expected accolades. Tamirov was dead. He would no longer haunt their dreams and their thoughts. Still, to see Edward's face…

Al shuddered and continued staring at his reflection in the glass. In truth, he was barely aware of anything beyond the window, especially since the light began to fade. If there had been vigor and determination in him, he couldn't imagine where anyone had seen it. It wasn't there now. All he could see in the reflection was a defeated, end-of-later-middle aged guy. His eyes looked flat, his hair speckled, his face a little more lined, and yet a little rounder, than in previous years. He looked like too many battles, too many restless nights and forced marches, too much alchemy and coffee in place of sleep. War did that, but it wasn't just the war. There was something wrong.

The problem wasn't physical… it was something in his head. He was almost sure of it now, though the outward signs were certainly a symptom. When he had learned, years ago, and abided by since, the idea that to train the mind one must train the body; the reverse was also true. Quality and health in one reflected in the other, in both directions.

_Hi, Elicia. It's me. Tamirov's dead at last. I killed him myself. Then I almost really hurt my brother and I look like hell. I'm a nutcase again, maybe worse than after Aerugo. At least I didn't have to kill innocent people this time. So… how've you been? _

The door opened, and he saw Will reflected in the glass, returning. He had no idea how long his son had been gone, but he was holding the promised hot dog and a bottle. "Hey, Dad. Sorry that took so long. Alyse and I got talking."

"It's all right," Al assured him, taking the hot dog – with relish and mustard, just like he liked them he noticed – and the beer. "I didn't really notice." No reason for Will to feel guilty about it. "How's your sister?"

"Glad to be going home," Will smiled, sitting back down across from him after digging a blanket and a pillow out from the rack above the benches. He made an impromptu bed and lay down, his head towards the window so his left arm could be on top since he couldn't sleep on it. " Worried about everyone but herself as usual."

Al took the statement to include himself, and probably Will, as well as Cal Fischer. "She's like her mother."

Will chuckled. "Yeah. It's going to be good to see Mom."

Al took a bite out of his hot dog, and marveled at how easily Will had managed to suck him into a conversation after a day of relative silence. "So, should I tell her I'm coming too, or let it be a surprise?" That was something else he hadn't been able to decide. So he smiled, and hoped his son had a helpful opinion. There were so many things Al wanted to say, but he wasn't sure if he could do them face to face, but didn't want to say them over the phone either.

"Definitely a surprise," Will replied as he relaxed and closed his eyes. "She knows Alyse and I are coming home. You'll be the best surprise yet."

"Then I'll do that then." Al let his son go to sleep as he finished eating and sipped his drink. He would be a surprise, and he hoped that the things he had to tell her would not ruin his homecoming.


	38. Chapter 38

**August 21****st****, 1964**

Gracia watched her daughter absent-mindedly chopping carrots to go in the stew pot that sat on the stove between them. Gracia was almost finished with the celery. She understood her daughter's pre-occupation. Alyse and William were supposed to have arrived back in Central today, but had not been able to give an exact arrival time. The military train didn't run on the same schedule as everything else. On top of that, when Will had called a couple of days out, he had told them not to worry about picking them up. Ren would be there to meet him, and Alyse would be following Calvin Fischer to the hospital to make sure he was settled in all right; devoted and unwilling to leave him alone until then. They would come over for dinner tomorrow, but today was likely to be too busy.

Elicia had claimed she understood. Her children had other loved ones to see to first. However she had been moping quietly all day. Gracia could tell her daughter was trying to hide her disappointment.

"Do you want to work on the quilt tonight?" Gracia suggested, trying one again to begin a conversation. Their latest quilt project was nearly completed; a thick, warm interlocked ring pattern in greens and roses.

"Maybe," Elicia replied noncommittally. "I'm not sure. I think I might read a book."

"That's always nice too," Gracia nodded. "I'm in the middle of a good one myself; it's a very good mystery."

"What's it about?" asked Elicia.

"A mysterious gentleman, unexplained murders, and an ill-advised attraction to said mysterious gentleman on the part of the heroine," Gracia chuckled. She was almost certain that the mysterious gentleman – set up to seem like the murderer – was not, and that the two would wind up romantically entangled.

"It does sound good," Elicia chuckled, smiling as she added the carrots the pot and reached for potatoes. The tea pot on the stove began to whistle loudly, set for hot water.

A moment later Elektra streaked through the kitchen, yowling, Orestes hot on her tail.

"Well what's into them tonight?" Gracia watched the cats in amazement as she reached over and turned off the burner. A moment later several of the younger cats – including Alyse's – darted past in a pack.

"Are they heading for the door?" Elicia looked just as puzzled.

"I think they heard me coming."

Elicia dropped the knife on the cutting board and spun around, mouth and eyes competing for which could open wider.

Gracia did not have to turn to know who was standing in the kitchen doorway. She turned more slowly, and smiled at the pleasant surprise. "Welcome home, Alphonse."

Her son-in-law might not have heard her, for his entire attention was focused singularly on his wife. Beneath the shaggy head, scruffy chin and tired eyes, he was thoroughly absorbed in her. His bag slid off his shoulder without another word being spoken. Then he began to shake, and in a very few steps he was across the kitchen, down on his knees, his arms wrapped around Elicia's waist and his face buried in her pale blue skirt. "It's done," he whispered, barely audible as his shoulders shook. His voice broke. "He's dead, Elicia. And I'm home… for good."

Elicia almost bent double wrapping her arms around her husband's neck and shoulders. Tears welled in her eyes. "Thank you," she replied just as softly.

"Don't," Al shook his head subtly. "Please… I need you."

Gracia was nothing more than a flower in the wall paper print. Alphonse stood, and gathered Elicia to him, and they were murmuring quietly to each other so intimately that Gracia turned away and did not attempt to listen. She knew what it was like when a husband came home after something difficult and unpleasant; what men were like when they came home from wars. They needed each other. She was not at all surprised when she heard footsteps, and when she turned they had vanished from the room without a word.

Gracia reached for the potatoes herself. She didn't know whether or not to expect them for dinner, but there would be plenty waiting now, or tomorrow, when Alphonse was ready to face the world at least so far as his own dining room.

* * *

"Nice room," Alyse chuckled as she glanced around, glad that Cal had been given a room to himself.

"Well it's not a swank hotel," Cal snickered, winking at her as she crossed to him.

Alyse leaned over and kissed his cheek. "At least it means we can talk with as much privacy as anyone gets at a hospital. And you don't have to worry about roommates who snore."

"Or hit on pretty girls," Cal agreed, catching her arm and pulling her toward him.

Alyse complied and kissed his lips too. "As if I would notice," she teased. "I promise to turn down any offers of dates from the male nurses."

Cal's face blanked momentarily. "They've already made offers?"

"Aren't you paranoid," she smiled and shook her head. He worried too much. "No they haven't. They know I'm your girlfriend."

"Yeah, and I could beat them up if they try anything," Cal joked weakly. "You know," he said a moment later. "You don't have to spend all your time here. I mean, I appreciate it… but doesn't your family want to see you?"

"You're sweet," Alyse smile as she leaned back and settled into the chair by his bed. "I'll see them tomorrow. We all agreed that there were things that needed to be done first." And for her, making sure he was comfortable and settled was a big part of that. "Besides, this is where I want to be right now." Just as it had on the train, and every moment she'd worried about him before this. Will was with Ren, and her father and mother would be fully preoccupied tonight she was certain. After all, she and Will had conspired to leave them as alone as possible! She was sure her grandmother would do the same.

"I'm glad." Cal reached his hand out and grasped hers. "I hate sick beds. They feel like when I lost my leg and I could barely move around without it. Then even when it was healed enough for surgery, it took over two years before I could move normally again."

Alyse squeezed his hand back. Cal had rarely said much of anything about his time between the Aerugo War and the day they first bumped into each other at Headquarters. "I'm here. Someone has to take care of you after all." She wasn't just going to leave him to the mercy of hospital technicians all day! "Auto-mail recovery and therapy are hard," she added in understanding.

Cal gave her a surprised look and shook his head. "I suppose you already know how to maintain auto-mail and have just never mentioned it?"

"Only the basics," Alyse chuckled. "It's hard to grow up in my family and not know a little something. I've never really worked on auto-mail, but I've helped Ethan with his fingers once or twice. Besides, if I need to know something about your leg, I can always ask Aunt Winry or Mom what to do. She used to work with Aunt Winry when she was a kid; she actually knows a lot about auto-mail maintenance. And I think almost everyone's had to help keep Uncle Ed in one piece over the years," she added.

She was glad to see Cal chuckle, though he winced and quieted quickly. His side was going to take weeks more to heal up properly. "That sounds like Fullmetal. Though I definitely prefer having you here over him," he winked. "You're much cuter."

He had such an easy way of making her blush! Alyse was already beginning to think she would just have to get used to it. He hadn't tried often when they just hung out and bantered over drinks. Now, he seemed to take some perverse delight in making her feel a little off balance; wonderful at the same time, but a bit less experienced. Of course, she _was _in comparison to him, but that was what he seemed to like. "Well thank you," she giggled. "But don't you think you should save a few compliments? That silver tongue of yours is bound to run out sometime."

"Never." This time he didn't sound or look like he was joking. Deep gray eyes caught her gaze and held it. "There aren't enough words to say what I feel with you, or about you. I'm not even sure I deserve you; but that isn't going to keep me from enjoying this." Then the grin was back, tired as he might be, and he was all Cal again.

Alyse collected herself, smiling easily as she kissed his cheek again. "Good. I'd be very put out with you otherwise, and you'll find quickly the women in my family have more dangerous tempers than the men."

She liked catching him off guard as well. Fortunately, once more Cal realized she was mostly joking, and he chuckled. "Good. For a minute I was worried you were going to tell me there was no fire in your family."

"That's the Mustangs," Alyse quipped. "In our family, it's just good old Elric blood."

* * *

"I don't think I can eat another bite," Will chuckled as he leaned back in his chair, which squeaked in protest.

"Well it's nice to know you at least appreciate my cooking," Ren teased as she stood and began to remove empty serving plates, now devoid of home-made Xingese cooking.

"I appreciate the rest of you too," Will retorted as he reached out with his uninjured arm and caught at the edge of her blouse. "Come here and I'll show you how much."

"Later," she tugged easily out of his finger-tip grasp. "_After_ bedtime stories," she added with a chuckle as Minxia cheered and Michio giggled in his high-chair.

"I'll help!" Minxia hopped down and picked up her own little plate, then Michio's, and bounded into the kitchen ahead of her mother.

Will turned to his drooling son. "We've got it good, don't we?"

Michio smiled, and Will felt his heart warm. He wasn't sure how much Michio remembered from their meeting months ago, but his son had been agreeable in his company all afternoon, and for now that was enough.

"You certainly do," Ren replied from the kitchen. "I think my brother's advisors would be scandalized to know I can cook, clean, and cater to half your whims."

"Only half?" Will looked up in amusement as she returned. "And here I thought they liked traditional roles for women."

"They do," Ren came over and kissed his cheek. "But that's a role for women of a completely different class." Then she winked and kissed him full on the mouth.

"You're in a class by yourself," Will murmured, enjoying the familiarity and the comfortable hominess that pervaded everything today. He suddenly wished the children couldn't see them.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around." Ren straightened up, smiling coyly. Even playful, she somehow made everything look elegant. "So what do you want to do now?"

On his first night home? Will stifled the first four things that came to mind since they definitely shouldn't come out of his mouth. "Anything that involves time with you," he answered more wisely, his grin including the kids.

"Stories!" Minxia exclaimed."Read us stories, Daddy, pleeeeease?" Big dark eyes flashed thick lashes.

"She gets that from you," Will grinned at his wife before turning back to his daughter. "I think that's a fabulous idea. Why don't you go pick a few and we'll read stories until bedtime?"

"Yes!" Minxia bounced on the balls of her feet and dashed upstairs.

"And after bedtime?" Ren asked a little too-curiously.

"After bedtime may require a little creativity," Will responded. Under different circumstances, he would have vowed to carry his wife upstairs gallantly and make love until dawn. Right now, he would be grateful to walk upstairs under his own power and hopefully find a position that allowed intimate activity without the agonizing inconvenience of his injured arm!

"That's all right," Ren stepped up close and whispered in his ear. "Tonight I'm feeling artistic."

* * *

It was heartbreaking to see him like this. Elicia felt cried out now, and hoped Alphonse felt the same. She watched him sleep, one hand absently playing with a stray lock of his hair. It needed trimming again, though that could wait. She had her husband back, and for that she was grateful.

Though she wished she could have had him back just a little more undamaged. Not that she wasn't appreciative that he was whole and uninjured, alive and healthy. But she had listened silently, as he'd made her promise, while Al poured out the entire story of the war; his actions, his thoughts, his relatively simple taking of Tamirov's life, and then his self-recriminating and yet righteously angry retelling of his conflict with Edward.

They had kissed. Elicia had forgiven him, and assured him that he hadn't done the wrong thing in taking out a monster like Tamirov. She couldn't even summon guilt for feeling glad to hear about someone's death. While she rarely had nightmares anymore, she still caught herself glancing at alley corners from time to time, and flinching at shadows. Now, she knew he was gone. It made little difference in reality, but in her mind it was much better.

They had snuggled, bathed, made love in a way utterly opposite from Al's return from Aerugo. Then he had wanted her almost hungrily, with a more aggressive passion than he normally exhibited. This time was soft, tender, and meant to comfort them both in the solace of being with the one they loved most.

It seemed to have worked. Elicia was still stunned from the whirlwind of Al's unexpected arrival, and couldn't quite bring herself to fall asleep, lest she wake and find it a dream. Al had passed out not long after they finished, despite skipping dinner, and Elicia was happy to just snuggle against him, pressed against the warm softness, feel the smooth firmness of muscled arms around her.

Physically he was almost exactly as he had left her. Under other circumstances, Elicia might have found it amusing; chided him by asking if he'd eaten every baked good she sent him on his own. But not tonight. Perhaps not ever. Her sweetheart was hurting inside the worst she had ever seen.

He stirred under her hand, and she stopped playing with his hair. He shifted, and his grip around her tightened, but he did not awaken. That was good. He needed rest. In this state, Elicia could have denied him nothing, no matter the request. She had not expected the one he had made though, not so soon after his arrival. At least he wanted her to go with him, but she had hoped that he would be happy to settle back in at home first. The trip probably wouldn't be much of a vacation, but it would be good for him she hoped, in the ways he hoped it would help.

Elicia closed her eyes and tried to sleep. Al's breath stirred her hair as she rested her head near the crook of his arm, against his chest. _Sleep my love. Rest and find peace. I'm here, and I'll never let you go._

**August 22****nd****, 1964**

They hadn't even woken her before leaving for the train, but Gracia was only mildly surprised when she got up to find that Alphonse and Elicia were both gone. There was a letter on the table she was sure offered more explanation than she even needed. Gracia had seen Al's face. Still, she put on a pot for tea, fed and watered the cats, and made toast and jam before sitting down to read the letter penned in Elicia's neat script.

_Mom,  
We are going out of town for a little bit. Al needs time and for reasons he has asked me to keep private for now, he wants to go someplace more private and quiet than Central. I will call when we get where we are going. The important things you should know are that Al will be fine, and that he has resigned his commission. The military should be sending the paperwork to the house directly. General Breda said he would handle it. _

_ Love,  
Elicia_

So Alphonse was done with the military. Gracia could not say she was surprised. She had wondered that he did not retire after Aerugo. But he was such a resilient man, his good spirits overcoming just about anything given enough time. These last years had been difficult; perhaps now he could reach some peace inside himself. He had needed it for a long time. She was just relieved that he had taken Elicia with him. The time, she hoped, would help them both.


	39. Chapter 39

**October 1****st****, 1964**

Fall came and went like a camera flash-pan. September was a constant rush of movement; marching and entrenching and pushing back the Drachmans yard by yard instead of foot by foot. The leaves turned colors almost overnight and fell off the trees before the end of the month; the ground redder with leaves even than with blood. By the twentieth they had seen their first snow flurries, and by the end of the week there were a couple of inches on the ground. Not that it stayed pristine long with soldiers marching and dying on it, but it was pretty on the trees.

"How are you doing?" Breda asked Edward gruffly as they looked out past the newly dug trenches towards the walls of Buzcoul, less than half a mile distant. To the left as they looked north was the Drachman line, such as it was. The other side of the city came closer to the rocks and mountains and made for a terrible strategic location on either side.

Ed shrugged. "I've hurt worse." He had given in earlier this year, hunting down a dose of the new painkiller when he woke up already badly nauseated from the pain in his joints from the rapidly changing weather. Cold and wet had come on fast. "How about you?"

Breda shrugged as well. "Knees are going arthritic on me, but what else is new?"

"I'll trade you."

"No thanks."

"So how does it look like things are shaping up?" Ed asked, his voice calmer than he felt. There was an energy in the air that had nothing to do with alchemy. Today was the day they took back Buzcoul. Or at least, that was the plan. They had only arrived within proper striking distance the day before, but Breda wanted to strike before the Drachmans thought they could possibly be ready. They expected the Drachmans to try and rally here – the last major town between them and Briggs. The Amestrians were winning, hands down, but the Drachmans had condensed here save for any up in Briggs, to make a stand with the relatively fresh troops that had come from the other fronts and rested behind the front line of Drachmans. They had too many to fight all at once, and it looked like they were cycling out.

"Like they don't quite expect us," Breda replied, a smug little smile on his broad face. "Or this particular strategy. Are the alchemists in place?"

"When I talked to Kane he said they were," Ed nodded. It felt weird, not being out in the field, but for this one Kane was out, and Ed had been assigned to the in-camp command and coordinator position. He had the radio, and the full-field view. "The other units have reported in ready." His, what little remained of it, would not be going into this engagement in traditional combat. Fletcher, to good use, was working with Roy's unit for this one with his brother. Russell had pulled himself together and held on with the grit and tenacity Ed would have expected. His son's death would not be in vain, and he wouldn't go home without redeeming himself in his own eyes for letting it happen. The two of them together were going to wreak serious havoc with the Drachman trenches with the very plants themselves. Ed also knew that the underwater stream one of the other alchemists had located should do very well for flooding some of those trenches when brought to the surface by alchemy. He wished Whitewater was here to handle that, but he had it on good authority that he was having a much easier recovery than he might have had, but it was still slow.

The rest of Ed's unit was, he tried not to think about it, really non-existent. There had been no one new assigned to him recently. With Fletcher working with the other unit on this one, Ed was actually alone today. Finn… Finn was more trouble in a fight than out of one. Not that he was a major liability. No one had died because of him, but his concentration and abilities were not what they ought to be, and he was still finding ways of getting drunk when Ed would have been sure there wasn't alcohol to be had anywhere in camp. Not in the alchemist's camp anyway. _As soon as this is done, I'm shipping him home. _Then it would be done with. He'd given him a few weeks, but there wasn't improvement and he'd rather see him discharged than dead if it even came to that. He hoped Finn could turn it around. He'd seen so many do it.

"Then we'll strike in an hour," Breda's comment brought Ed out of his reverie.

Now was not the time to think about some things, Ed chided himself. "We'll be ready," he nodded. "Any sign they know about the Aerugeans?" The military pact to send troops, inked and dried not so long ago, had proven honest and a full Aerugean division had arrived in the North of Amestris on, if not friendly, certainly at least neutral terms. It made Ed uneasy, but he had been nothing but polite to the Aerugean brass he had met and interacted with in the past week.

"If they don't their intelligence is even more abysmal than we've been assuming," Breda replied. "That said, I doubt they know how many we have, or how many more may be coming."

"Well that's just too bad for them," Ed grinned. "Because after today, they're going to be looking at a lot more of them than they like." Amestrians, Cretans, Xingese alchemists, and now Aerugeans, all united against the northern monster that Drachma had become. It was quite a historical change from over forty years ago, when Roy had struggled to begin cobbling together some harmony with Amestris' neighbors, instead of Bradley's inciting riots and border wars.

"You seem confident."

"Why not?" Ed looked at Breda. "We're winning. The Drachman alchemists are in shambles, we've driven them back on two fronts, and we've almost shoved them all the way back to Briggs. At this rate we'll have them out of Amestris in months."

"What if they're drawing us up towards Briggs into a trap?"

Ed paused. It wasn't that he hadn't thought about the possibility, it was more that he didn't think it likely. "I doubt we are. Where would they get the men? Wouldn't our intelligence have more information about that?"

"We can only assume," Breda said. "I know it's a slim possibility, but I have, well a feeling that this isn't going to be that simple. Intelligence says they're still repairing Briggs, their alchemists are mostly dead, and this is going to end victoriously before much longer."

"Maybe you're just a pessimist," Ed grinned.

Breda snorted. "Better a pessimist than dead."

"Point taken." Ed's smile faded as he watched the enemy and the city. The last thing they wanted was fighting inside the city. They were lucky that the Drachmans seemed un-inclined towards street-by-street fighting as well. With the alchemists they just lost more men that way. "Are we still getting anything useful from the Amestrians inside the fort?" He wasn't even sure how many were left. They kept escaping when they could. Some had been killed in escape attempts or for downright mutiny.

Breda shook his head. "Not really. Every once in a while we can get something we can confirm. They don't know about the escape root Winry and the others used yet, but they're starting to patrol up there more heavily. Best estimate there's only about two-hundred Amestrians left in Briggs."

"Then I won't feel bad if we have to blow it sky high," Ed quipped. It might come to that to root the Drachmans from that spot; the most defensible spot they could have left.

"You can just put it back together later," Breda commented glibly, "Like you did with that bridge."

"Oh yeah sure," Ed snickered. "Easy as pie."

* * *

Tore knew the State Alchemists' strategy was going to work almost from the moment the shooting broke out that afternoon. The Alchemists struck from the surrounding hills from hidden points, as much at a distance as possible, sometimes with the aid of the Xingese alchemists who specialized in distance combat.

Despite their best attempts to keep firing, the Drachman trenches had to be abandoned quickly as they were first decimated by explosions and insidious plant-roots, and then flooded as the underground stream gushed upwards, nearly drowning – and in some cases succeeding – quite a few of the Drachman soldiers.

When the Drachmans charged, the alchemists moved in from the sides and in some cases very nearly from behind. Tore was prepared for the moment when the charging shooting Drachmans realized that they were being attacked from both sides, and dropped to the ground as half of them turned and fired at the alchemists instead.

Tore had worn gloves into battle, and slammed his palms into the dirt, yanked as much electricity from the city as he could using alchemy, and sent it dancing across the battlefield. His alchemy had improved a lot since the war started; he only struck the weapons of the Drachmans. If they dropped them fast enough, they weren't in danger of being electrocuted.

He was getting tired of slaughtering people. Not that it wasn't necessary, or that he hesitated. Indeed, the lack of horror he felt at the thunder around him and the Drachmans dropping thirty yards away bothered him more at night in his tent, when he had time to reflect on it. That, he supposed, was simply how soldiers survived.

The dropped weapons were not picked up again and the Drachmans were mowed down much faster than Tore frankly expected, though that was the whole point of this fight. They took Buzcoul and with it, the supply depot Tore had missed out on helping wreck the last time he was up this way.

Brown eyes in his memory distracted Tore for a moment, and he flinched as a bullet from somewhere whizzed by a bit closer to his ears than he was comfortable with. Tore scrambled to his feet and followed the other alchemists as the last of the Drachmans were dead, wounded, or surrendered – something that had happened more and more as they pushed north after the alchemist melee.

The Amestrians were ready to push past Buzcoul and charged then, joining the alchemists as they fully surrounded Buzcoul. Any Drachmans inside had better surrender if they wanted to live. The Amestrians had been honoring those requests and taking prisoners; word was surely getting around.

Within two hours, by far one of their shorter battles, Buzcoul was once more behind the Amestrian line! Despite the cold and damp, and being dirty and wet from brief crawls in the mud and snow when necessary, Tore felt exhilarated when it was done. He stood, panting for a moment, as he looked around for the rest of his unit. There was the Emerald Alchemist, and Kieleigh helping someone else up off the ground. He managed to catch sight of almost every alchemist he knew well, and that gave him hope that the rest were alive. The last few weeks had been weird with Cal gone. Tore had had the tent to himself for a couple of days before he had been shuffled in with other guys, and that had been bizarre. He hadn't realized until Cal was on the train back to Central how close a bond that friendship had become. He had already written his buddy a couple of letters, telling him how much Drachman ass they were kicking and teasing Cal about flirting with his nurse.

"Quit daydreaming, Shock!" Lyssandra Fines shouted at him. "If you're not injured, starting helping the others!"

Right. "I'm on it, Ma'am," he barked back and turned to look for the wounded; Amestrian or otherwise. Even the Drachmans who survived deserved treatment. The first man Tore found had a bullet wound right through his knee. He was actually bleeding very little, and Tore transmuted a bandage out of a piece of the Amestrian soldier's coat before helping him hobble in. The next man he found had a shoulder wound and a busted ankle from running. The next soldier was a woman. Her helmet had come askew, revealed a tangled mess of flame-red hair. For a moment, Tore was brought up short. _Idiot. She's not Charisa. _Even more of an idiot to be distracted by thoughts of Noelle's eyes earlier, and Charisa now. "Are you all right?" he asked solicitously as he crouched down to where she was leaning against an old fence post.

She looked up at him with soft grey eyes tight in pain. "Not likely." It was then he noticed her hand tucked under her jacket, and the blood staining the side of her pants. She was pale, sweating.

If this were any other battlefield Tore would have said she didn't stand a chance. "Hold on…"

"Dana."

"Hold on, Dana," he smiled, hoping it looked reassuring. Then he looked up sharply, eyes scanning the field for Ethan or any available Xingese alchemist. He spotted Ethan moving across the field, eyes scanning the way Tore had been so recently for anyone. "Ethan!" Tore put his hand up and waved it frantically. "Here!"

Ethan's head turned sharply, his ponytail swinging dramatically as he spotted him. He broke into a jog and crouched down beside them. "Where are you wounded?"

Dana winced. "Side I… something hurts inside…"

"Not for long," Ethan replied with a calm, confident smile. "Forgive my impertinence," he added as he set his gloved hands on top of her coat.

Tore watched, impressed as always, as Ethan closed his eyes and focused. There was no energy wasted at all as he began to try and heal the woman's injuries. There wasn't even the outward glow expected in most transmutations; not when it was turned inward. Tore could only feel the energy.

Ethan looked as if he had just run sprints when his eyes opened again and he sat back; his gloves still clean. "How do you feel now?"

Dana, paler, swallowed and nodded. "Better…a little. It feels like… well just like ordinary pain now. I can breathe."

"You'll be a while mending," Ethan commented. "But your organs are intact now. Let's get you someplace warm and get you patched up the rest of the way. Shock?"

Tore nodded and helped lift Dana from the ground. He found himself cradling her in his arms as they headed straight back, Ethan falling behind Tore twice for quick healing matters with other wounded men.

"Thanks," Dana smiled weakly after Tore had deposited her on the bed where he was told to. "You saved my life."

"Ethan Elric saved your life," Tore chuckled. "I just carried you in."

"You found me first," she shook her head slightly, and her eyes drooped shut.

Tore left her then, back out into the organized chaos that was the clean up after any battle. He ranged further afield, past the former Drachman trenches that were much more resembling an odd-shaped decorative pond – a treacherous one at that given the depth – and found a lot more dead, but also more wounded and… civilians. Doctors, he realized a minute later when he saw one, kit in hand, bend down to examine a soldier who was groaning but sitting up under his own power.

There was more than one of them, and Tore saw others starting to come out of the city to help. He kept moving, ready to lend aid to those lending _them_ aid. The infirmary tent would quickly run out of room. There was little enough as it was. Moving on from one body that proved to be dead, Tore looked up and stopped cold. _Get your mind off the girls, Closson,_ he chided himself. _You'd think you were still a kid. _Brown hair waving in the wind and a pretty face were not what he needed tempting him right now they… They were in front of him!

He wasn't hallucinating. Barely twenty yards away, he spotted her and hurried his footsteps. "Noelle?" He hoped it was her, otherwise he was about to be very embarrassed!

She turned, surprise written all over her face. "Tore?"

A grin spread across his features. "I told you I'd be back to deal with Drachma. Don't look so surprised."

"I never doubted that you'd deal with the Drachmans," Noelle chuckled, relief evident in her voice. "I just didn't expect..." She closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you're here."

Tore was surprised, but not displeased, by the display of affection. He put his arms around her in return, feeling a sense of relief that came from knowing she was all right, and that someone out here cared enough to give him a hug! Those were rare enough this days. "Nothing's happened to you while I was gone right?" he asked with honest concern. "Or your aunt and uncle?"

Noelle pulled away smiling, her face a bit flushed, "We've been all right. A few medical emergencies, but that goes with the territory, right?

"Right." Tore let go of her reluctantly. "Well now that we've taken Buzcoul back hopefully those will be fewer soon." He looked around. "I'm supposed to be helping haul the injured to the infirmary tents or into the city to the hospital. Need any help?" He spotted Doctor Horace not too far off now, crouching beside a wounded man.

"I'm sure Uncle wouldn't mind another pair of strong arms," Noelle nodded as began to make her way back to where her Uncle was. "I really wasn't expecting to see you again, or for you to find us. I'm so glad you're safe! Uncle, did you need a hand? Tore's here too."

Doctor Horace looked up at him, squinted a moment, and then a look of recognition crossed his face. "So you're not dead. Good." He nodded and gestured to the man he was assisting. "Get this one to the clinic. I hear hospital's for critical cases and he'll be fine in a few days. He goes to the clinic." Then he stood and moved on.

The injured man was unconscious, but breathing. "I can manage him," Tore said, bending down to haul the man up. He smiled sheepishly. "Lead the way? I'm afraid I don't remember exactly how to get there."

Noelle snickered as she lead the way off the battlefield "I can't imagine why you wouldn't remember how to get there. You must have had something else on your mind."

"And I left in a crate of garlic," Tore admitted with a laugh at the memory. "Cal and I smelled for days. The worst part was, the smell made me hungry."

"You could have smelled worse," Noelle countered. "You could have left in a crate that smelled like rotten meat."

"Then I'd have smelled like I do after most battles," Tore quipped before he realized how callous that probably sounded.

"So the crate of garlic was a good idea then," Noelle smiled up at him.

"One of Cal's better ones," Tore nodded begrudgingly, relieved when she did not appear offended. The unconscious man across his shoulders grunted but did not awaken. His injured leg hung limply. "I've been worried about you," he admitted. "I wanted to write, but there was no way to get a letter delivered."

A blush rose to Noelle's face as she stammered, "Really? I mean, I knew nothing would get through, so I wasn't expecting anything. It's nice though, that you wanted to. I... I worried about you, too. Gosh, I worried so much the first few days after you left that I hardly ate anything. But after the first few days, I figured that you and Cal had gotten out, so you must be all right."

Tore smiled. "I'm sorry I worried you then. We're both fine. I'm here, and Cal's back in Central recovering from a wound and being spoiled by the girl of his dreams." _Lucky dog. _

"That must have been a nasty wound to get sent all the way back to Central," Noelle looked back up at Tore. "You haven't been hurt again, have you?"

"It was pretty nasty," Tore agreed. "It almost killed him. Me? No, not seriously." He didn't think about scrapes and bruises at all anymore, or even the occasional burn or small slice from combat.

"I'm glad," Noelle said simply, before she gave a cheeky grin. "I'd hate to think that we'd patched you up just so you'd go out and get injured again."

"Well despite the hazards of the job, I've made it so far," Tore chuckled, a little strained with the guy over his shoulders, but doing all right considering. The roads were starting to look vaguely familiar.

"We're almost there," Noelle said. "Really, we appreciate your help. This will keep Uncle from doing too much of the work on his own. If you hadn't come along, he would have been the one hauling the injured to our place. He's strong, but I can tell that he's starting to feel his age."

"I think_ I'm_ starting to feel his age," Tore joked, slightly shifting his burden.

"You've done great," Noelle encouraged, moving ahead so she could open the door to the clinic. "Just a little farther, all right? Auntie!" She called down the hall. "We have a patient!" "Take them to the first room!" The doctor's wife's voice rang out from down the hall.

"This way," Noelle beckoned.

Tore followed her. "Wow. Okay, now this is familiar," he commented. It was a little surreal, given how little time he had spent here in his life, yet those days suddenly felt much more recent than the months that had lapsed since then.

"I would think so, you spent a couple of days here," Noelle smiled as she turned into a room. "Lay him down here."

"It's a little fogged," he teased. Tore was glad to relieve himself of the burden of the unconscious man, though he did his best to lay him down gently. As he stood upright, his back popped loudly several times.

Noelle winced at the sound, "That's the sound Uncle's back makes every morning. You all right?"

Noelle's aunt, Evelyn he remembered, entered the room before Tore had a chance to answer. "I can take it from here. At least, you got a good looking soldier to help you out." The last comment was said with a wink of recognition in Tore's direction.

Tore chuckled. "Glad to help, ma'am." He backed away a couple of steps and left the room as requested. "Yeah, I'll be okay," he told Noelle once they were back out in the hall. "It's just been a long day; you know, combat and all that. I don't suppose you've got any _real_ coffee around?" The thought came to him as he enjoyed the warmth of the building seeping through him.

"If you don't mind it being a bit weaker than what you're used to," Noelle replied, moving towards the kitchen. "We've been stretching it lately, but at least it'll still be hot."

"What I'm used to tastes like water and tar and gets served by burly hairy guys named things like Targ," Tore pointed out with a chuckle, following eagerly. "Even the presentation will improve it."

Noelle smiled a little down at the coffee cups she had just gotten down from the cupboard, "It's nice that you're still trying to flirt, after everything that's happened." She chuckled as she turned to face him. "You know that you're the only one I've let flirt with me like this?"

"Oh really?" Thoughts of coffee flitted right out of his mind as Tore looked into her warmer, more welcoming eyes. "I'm touched." He took a risk, bringing one hand up to gently cup her cheek and chin.

Noelle jumped slightly at the touch, but relaxed quickly, bringing her own hand up over his. "I wanted to see you again," she admitted in whisper, closing her eyes. "I didn't want to hope, but I didn't think I wanted to see you so badly until you called my name."

Tore closed the distance between them and brushed his lips across hers, tasting, hoping. "I've missed you," he whispered. "I keep thinking about you, even when I'm supposed to be focused on other things."

"Then I wasn't the only one," Noelle smiled softly. "Auntie asked me about a month ago if I was still thinking about you. And she wasn't wrong."

When was the last time someone had thought about him like that? Tore couldn't name anyone in recent memory. His pulse quickened. "I'm glad she was right," he replied, softly still, trying and failing to keep a hint of huskiness from his voice. "That you were thinking about me too." He kissed her again.

Noelle's arms went around Tore's neck as she willingly returned the kiss. Time seemed to fly by and when she broke off the kiss to breathe again, she said with a breathless grin, "I hope that makes up for the coffee I never got you."

"I'd rather have you than coffee anytime," Tore responded, smiling, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist now. He wasn't conscious of when that had happened. He kissed her cheek, then her neck, tracing her jaw. "You taste… so much better."

Her breath caught when he kissed her neck, "I think I prefer you over coffee, too." Her lips found his jaw as she closed her eyes and seemed to just… enjoy his company.

Her responses were so much more willing, and less violent, than he remembered, Tore couldn't help but wonder if maybe… maybe no one would notice if he was gone for a little bit longer. It wasn't just _any_ woman he wanted right now, but this one…right here. Noelle had slipped into his dreams the past few months. He liked her, a lot. Who knew when or if he would ever see her again? He could be dead tomorrow. "How much?" he asked, cautious, but sure the meaning was behind the words.

"I… I don't know," Noelle bit her lip, looking horribly uncertain.

Tore's lips continued to trace the tender part of the jaw. He paused, looking into her eyes with an eager fire, yet a strange calm filled him. He felt oddly confident, and not in the cocky manner he pulled with the girls Cal usually introduced him to. "I won't make you," he promised softly, "But do what you want today. No regrets later, either way."

She seemed to come to a decision quickly and dropped her arms to Tore's, before nodding. "I'm not regretting anything right now. But I think we should probably move somewhere other than the kitchen where anyone could walk in on us. And I really don't want to explain what we're doing if that happens."

"I'll follow you anywhere," Tore chuckled softly. "Just tell me where."

* * *

Tore couldn't remember the last time he had found an intimate encounter as pleasant and as satisfying. It was, he was sure, more because of who the girl was than any experience on her part… because she had none until now. That was a strange thought; being the experienced one in a relationship. Still, he had tried not to be too rough. As he lay in Noelle's bed, in her little room upstairs, he felt more at ease than he had been in far too long. "You're amazing," he murmured into her thick, soft hair.

Noelle laughed a little, "If I'm amazing, you're completely out of this world. I… I never thought it could be this… good."

"I know what you mean. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Tore replied sincerely. It had been less than a year and a half since he'd been in that position, and it was odd to be the _experienced _member in the pairing. That hadn't happened before. He was glad he hadn't disappointed or hurt her. "Thank you," he added, kissing the tip of her ear that presented itself to him.

"I should be the one thanking you," Noelle murmured, snuggling closer. "I've been so jumpy around men, and you…" She chuckled, "I feel so speechless right now. I can't even remember the last time I was speechless."

"You're rather articulate for someone who's speechless," Tore teased gently. One finger came up and lightly traced her collar bones.

A short chuckle escaped her lips, "Just let me thank you, all right?" Noelle leaned in and gave Tore a light kiss on the cheek and whispered, "Thanks. You're completely amazing, you know that, right?"

Tore wrapped his arm around her in a hug, wishing he didn't have to let go. He hadn't had this kind of peace in far too long. "It's nice to know someone thinks so," he whispered back.

Noelle relaxed further into the hug, wrapping her own arm around Tore's middle, "Don't you forget that either." Then she gave a long sigh, "I suppose we have to go join the real world again. I don't think Uncle is going like that we've taken so long to bring one patient to the clinic."

"I don't think my commanding officer needs to know that it's taken so long to move one patient," Tore agreed with a soft chuckle. An hour away; they should be nearly done with the injured by now, or well past. There hadn't been many left when he ran into Noelle anyway. He squeezed her tightly before forcing himself to sit up.

"Nor my aunt and uncle," Noelle added, sitting up beside him and leaning close, clearly wanting to stay close to him for a few moments longer. "Gosh, what should I tell them? I'm sure they'll ask."

"What do you _want _to tell them?" Tore asked. He didn't want to make her life more complicated, though it was already too late for that he supposed. He moved to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor. If he didn't keep moving, he would be even later, and there would be trouble.

"I'm not sure yet," Noelle admitted thoughtfully, a finger on her chin. "I can't exactly blurt out, 'Oh, I was having sex with a former patient,' can I?"

"You could," Tore countered, "But I don't think it would get the best reaction." He smiled at her before leaning over to reach for his underwear and socks. In their hurry he hadn't stripped completely, but he was only wearing his under shirt, which had half come off anyway. He pulled what he could reach on quickly. "I'd really rather not have your Uncle come after me with a scalpel or something."

"In all honesty, he'd let my father come after you first, then Uncle would be happy to do what he wants with what's left of you," Noelle grinned. She started to reach for her clothes before her face filled with color. "This is going to sound weird, I know we just had sex and everything but… could you turn the other way while I get dressed?"

Tore smiled. She was so pretty when she was embarrassed. "Sure. No problem." He stood, grabbed his pants, and turned the other way while he pulled them on and tucked in his shirt. His uniform jacket lay sprawled over the chair in front of him, so he pulled that on too while he waited.

"I'm finished," Noelle gratefully put a hand on his arm. "Thanks. So, um, what now?"

Tore turned and gave her a quick, impulsive hug. "Now we have to get back to the rest of the world before your uncle gets worried and Fines figures out I've been playing hookie." He stepped back, still reluctant to leave. "But if you'll let me, I'd like to take you to dinner sometime soon. We'll be settling our base of operations against Briggs here. The fighting won't be here, but I should be around for a few days… and maybe if I get leave. I wish I could be more gallant about this," he admitted. "Wars really screw with time."

"Oh!" Noelle exclaimed softly, pink coloring her cheeks again. "I thought you guys would be in and out pretty quick. A few days… I didn't think I'd see you again let alone have a few more days. You'd really want to take me out to dinner?"

"You didn't think you'd see me again, and you still agreed?" Given how hard a nut she had been to crack with even flirting the last time he had come through, he couldn't help but be startled.

Noelle's face blushed scarlet before she looked down to the floor, "Yeah, it's probably one of the more reckless things I've done. But," she looked back up to him, "I don't regret it at all. I really wanted to give us a better shot than I did the last time you were here."

Tore had a sudden inkling of why Cal had always been careful to pick girls who were unlikely to get attached, and he felt guilty. At least she wasn't expecting more than he could give now. "I'm glad," he smiled. "I'd feel terrible if you did regret it." _I'd feel worse if I thought I'd taken advantage of you. _"I know it's doing things kind of out of order but yes, I really would like to take you to dinner."

"Are you going to encourage reverse dating?" Noelle grinned.

"It's already too late, don't you think?" Tore tried to relax when she smiled so brightly. "I want to see you again while I can. You're too special to be some one-night…afternoon… stand. You deserve better."

A blush turned her cheeks rosy again, "It's strange to think that someone would think that way about me." Noelle gave Tore a quick squeeze, "I think you're pretty special too."

"Thanks." Tore kissed her, then made himself drop his hands. "I should get back. I'll come find you again as soon as I can, okay? It might be a day or two. Hopefully less."

"Take care of yourself," Noelle said, catching his hand and giving it a tight squeeze.

Tore squeezed back. "I will." Then he turned and left the room, heading down the back stairs and out the front door when he thought he heard Noelle's aunt in the kitchen. It was better if she didn't see him still here. On the street he paused long enough to pull out a cigarette and light it, then he headed off, hoping Fines and the others hadn't noticed his complete lack of availability, and just thought he had been doing what everyone else had. He had been for a while anyway.

All the way back, Noelle haunted him; her hair, her eyes, her voice, her scent; not perfume or the dirt they had knelt in, but her natural aroma. She honestly liked him. If they had met at any other time, Tore might have entertained ideas of actually dating, romance, maybe something else, but this wasn't the time or the place, maybe not even the right lifetime. Still, he had promised, and he'd keep his promise.

He wondered if there were any good restaurants left in town.


	40. Chapter 40

**October 5****th****, 1964**

It was strange how Alphonse could be so much closer, and yet Elicia felt even lonelier than before. Perhaps it was the need for binoculars. He was so close, and yet she caught only glimpses of him. Sig was surprisingly indulgent of her and never commented when Elicia went down for hours to sit on the beach and stare out across the lake at the little island in the middle; the island where Al had retreated to put himself to rights. _Younger girls really have no idea what husband hunting really means._ If she watched long enough, sometimes Elicia would see Al on the shore; sometimes just sitting, sometimes jogging by or going through fighting forms. Most of the time, she saw nothing. In the moments when he looked her direction, she would wave her arm above her head, and hope he saw. If he did, she couldn't tell.

A month and a half since Al had surprised her by returning to Central, and told her that he was done with the military. Tamirov was dead… by Al's own hand. She had nothing to worry about anymore. _Nothing but you, you sweet idiot. _

The late afternoon sun dipped behind her, and the lake began to shift into evening colors. Elicia knew she should head back to the shop. Sig would have dinner waiting. Mason and his wife were coming for dinner, for once without a trail of other relatives. Their family was nearly as extensive as the Elrics with grown children, and growing grandchildren. They had been kind to Elicia; sympathetic and friendly, but it was still a bit strange to be here without anyone else. It wasn't a family vacation bringing her to this beach now. It wasn't a social visit. It was… well Elicia wasn't entirely sure what to call it.

Her cream colored dress flapped in the wind as the cool air shoved her away from the lake shore, almost as if it were telling her she was no longer welcome. With one last glance at the island, Elicia turned and walked back down the near-empty streets of Dublith. Everyone had gone inside to dinner, and lights coming on inside bespoke meals being prepared, families happy together. Her children were home, in Central, and she still hadn't seen them despite calling them on the phone – or getting a call from one or the other – almost every other day. Elicia was beginning to wonder if Will and Alyse took turns.

Sig was in the kitchen, and Elicia could smell roast and vegetables in the oven. Pasta boiled in a pot on the stove. "Not today?"

"Not today." It was almost a code between them now. Before, Elicia knew, Ed and Al had spent a month on the island. It was a place of contemplation and learning in its own way. Al had not said how long he would stay on the island, but Elicia had intuitively guessed that it would be a month; tradition if nothing else.

It seemed she was wrong.

"Maybe tomorrow," Sig nodded gruffly, unsurprised.

"Maybe," Elicia echoed, fighting hard to keep her emotions in check. More than once she had nearly broken down in tears in front of the mountain of a man. It wasn't that she was ashamed to cry; just that it seemed so silly. Al wasn't dead after all. He _would_ come back. "What time are Mason and Irene coming?"

"They're a bit late," Sig replied apologetically. "Irene said Vera was having trouble with the baby." Vera was one of their daughters-in-law.

"Is he sick?" Elicia asked with mild concern.

"Just colicky."

Elicia picked up the tea pot from the cozy on the table and poured herself a cup, sitting down at the little kitchen table. Colic was unpleasant, but nothing to panic over. "I'm sure he'll be fine." _I wish I was as sure about someone else. _That night, and on the train ride down, they had spoken of so many things, so much that Al had gone through, his concerns and insecurities, his anger with his brother and the confusion it all wrought in his sweet, sensitive mind. "If I have time," Elicia stood again almost at once, her tea still in her hand, "I think I'll take a quick bath. It's getting chilly in the evenings."

Sig nodded, not saying much else, and Elicia took her leave. Sig Curtis, she had learned years ago, was not a talkative man by nature. Still, he had availed himself to make conversation on several occasions to make her comfortable. And, she knew, because he got lonely himself sometimes. Izumi's picture still sat on the mantle and as far as Elicia knew, Sig had never even contemplated looking at another woman after her death.

Elicia turned on the hot water to fill the bathtub and went to the room she and Al had shared on previous visits. It somehow seemed even stranger here not to have him beside her at night. Probably, she guessed, because she had gotten used to him not being there at home; but never had she come to Dublith without him.  
If she looked out the window, she could almost see the lake. At least, she knew the direction Al was in as clearly as if he had been the moon and she the tides. _Stay well, Alphonse. It's getting chilly. You should come inside where it's warm. _"As if you can even hear me," she sighed aloud and went to her drawer to pull out a clean change of clothes for dinner. _I just hope you figure out what you need to soon. _

**October 14****th****, 1965**

"Not that I object," Cal commented with an abashed grin, "But I'll understand if you don't want to drag your stuff over here every afternoon." He stepped aside as Alyse sashayed into the room, laden as always with her planners and books and a basket that was guaranteed to hold some tasty treat. She never showed up without something to feed him.

"Your thoughtfulness is appreciated," Alyse chuckled, "But I want to be here. It's not like you can take care of yourself." She set her things down on the little table in his rooms in Cal's quarters. "Yet," she amended as she turned around and kissed him.

Cal gave up on the argument for the moment, preferring to put all of his energy into kissing her. She wasn't wrong after all either. He'd only been out of the hospital for two weeks, and he was still healing. All letting him go home meant was they trusted he could get up and down on his own and wasn't going to split himself open trying to get out of bed in the morning. "Lucky for me there's this gorgeous babe who does that for me."

"For free no less," Alyse giggled. "Though if you want me to go, you only have to say so."

"And get my girl mad at me?" Cal shook his head. "I didn't live this long pissing off beautiful women."

"Just homely ones?"

"Ouch," Cal winced, even though he knew she was teasing him. As sweet and charming and sophisticated as Alyse was, she had as much bark and bite as any other Elric when she wanted to. This was something he had learned quickly in the months before the war. It was also one of the things he liked about her. "Harsh, but fair."

Alyse's expression softened and she kissed him one more time before opening the basket she had brought. "I wasn't sure what you were in the mood for. I've got a spinach quiche in here for dinner, but if you're hungry now there are cheese biscuits, summer sausage, and almond cookies."

"Are you trying to fatten me up?" Cal accused playfully, putting his arms around her slender waist from behind. "I'm beginning to understand why your brother and your Dad are always griping."

"And every other married man in Central," Alyse laughed lightly as she tilted her head to look at him, her delicate chin at a playful tilt. "I'm afraid you've caught on to the female conspiracy. If you addict men to your cooking, they always come back for more."

"Brilliantly diabolical," Cal nodded sagely.

"I'm glad you agree," Alyse turned in his arms and poked him in the chest with her finger. "And the answer is yes, to a reasonable extent. You're nothing but ribs these days. You're almost as bad as Uncle Edward."

"Some guys might take that as a compliment," Cal couldn't help chuckling. Privately, he felt soft and lazy after weeks of lying about with minimal physical activity. At least he was cleared for exercise again. "I have to know. When do you find time to _make _all this stuff?"

Alyse shrugged casually. "In between decisions, phone calls, and cat naps. Really, they don't take that long."

Cal shook his head, bemused. "You're really something else."

"Thanks, I think." Alyse stretched up and kissed him again, her arms sliding around his neck. They stayed locked like that much longer this time.

"You're welcome," Cal grinned when their lips parted again. "So was there anything in particular you wanted to do this afternoon?"

"Well if you want to help me recommend colors for the Claris-Nichols wedding you're welcome to help me contemplate shades of teal and aquamarine," Alyse replied with an almost straight face.

Cal snickered. "I like my uniform. It means never having to match colors. If you want my opinion I'll give it, but I don't promise it will be helpful."

"The male perspective is always informative," Alyse assured him as she pulled out of his arms gently. "Tell you what, how about I get this finished up, and then I'll trounce you at cards."

"That's what you think," Cal countered, though he looked forward to the challenge. They had played quite a few hands in the hospital, and she was a surprisingly good player. "I won't go easy on you."

"I don't expect you to," Alyse grinned. "Though I might go easy on you."

Work first, play later; that was how Alyse worked and Cal found he really wasn't jealous of the attention she paid to her accounts and the people involved. She loved what she did, and he wouldn't put a damper on that for anything. As she settled to work he dug into the basket, pulled out a couple of cookies, and returned to the bed where he picked up a set of arm weights and started on a set of reps. The sooner he was fit for duty again, the happier he would be.

It was funny how quickly he had grown comfortable with Alyse coming over. There was no expectation that he should be the host, or that they would do anything other than whatever they felt like doing. If he was tired – a highly regular occurrence still – he could nap, or read a book, or have a snack, whatever he wanted. If he wanted to rest quietly Alyse would pull out her books and get to work like she was now.

Cal had to admit, he loved watching Alyse work. When she focused on the schedules and color swatches and invitation designs, and a thousand different details before her, she got the most adorable focused look on her face; delicate, like a painting, and she would often tap the tip of her pen just under her bottom lip, or it would bounce lightly off the tip of her nose.

Her presence improved the room, like she did everything else in his life. Even when Alyse was gone, she had begun to pervade into every corner of his space, his being. She had visited every day in the hospital, and now she spent all her free time in his quarters. She had even helped him with his laundry and the dishes when they ate, though she didn't do _everything. _Alyse liked him to do what he could. She had even put flowers on the table – just a little potted hibiscus with bright red blossoms that she watered regularly. It got plenty of sunshine where she had set it and it was a startling bright spot in his otherwise sparsely decorated space.

It was all so _domestic._ The funny part was that Cal was quickly learning that he really liked life this way!

**October 15****th**** 1964**

"It would have been nice if we could have stayed in Buzcoul a little longer," Tore griped to Kieleigh as they sat beside each other in the back of a troop transport truck stuffed with nearly half of what remained of Amestris' State Alchemists.

"What so you could screw around and be lazy?" Kieleigh snickered.

"The first kind of excludes the latter," Tore argued with a laugh and a cocky grin. "There's nothing lazy about it."

Kieleigh rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Hopeless."

Tore shrugged and leaned back against the wall. No one around them was paying much attention. They were all cat-napping or having their own quiet conversations. Tore was content to let quiet fall. Besides, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to talk about Noelle, especially not with Kieleigh. He had mixed feelings on the subject. She wasn't just some one-night stand. As short as it had been, their few meetings in the past couple of weeks had been more than that. He had taken her out to dinner as promised, as often as he could get the time. She had only agreed to sleep with him one more time; the last time before he couldn't get away again before shipping out. No, that wasn't a fling, however short; it was the closest thing to a real relationship he'd had since before he dropped out of school.

And that made it dangerous. He had made no promises, and she'd asked for none thank goodness. Tore couldn't promise he'd be alive, or that their time together would come to anything, which had made him oddly uneasy about the whole thing. He'd been her first, and he knew that he meant more to her than to any other woman he'd been with. She _wanted_ more, and he had the feeling that if he let himself, he could fall for her.

_And what would be so wrong with that? She's a sweet, intelligent woman?_

She's not going to leave off with her Aunt and Uncle, especially not right now. And I'm sure the hell not asking for a transfer up North after this mess…. Assuming I survive. Besides, there was the little matter of the other girl still very much enmeshed in his heart. He wasn't sure he wanted to let go, and it wasn't fair to pursue anything serious, anything real, with Noelle when he was fairly certain he couldn't give her what she deserved. _It would be better for her if I was nothing but a fond memory, maybe a distant friend. _  
_  
Is that true? _The irritating voice in his mind argued, as it had half a dozen times already that week. _Or will she be sorry she gave in to that charming sweet-talking soldier who took what she offered and then left her behind? _

Man, even his own mind was an ass. No wonder Cal had his rules all those years; never without protection Tore had understood immediately, but honest intentions and never a virgin had never made so much sense until now. It wasn't the girls who _weren't _looking for love that were the problem. _Admit it, you feel guilty for taking her virginity. You never worried about the others._

Hey, I liked Angela!

But you knew she didn't want it serious. You didn't really want that to be long term either. You weren't risking your own heart there. You've got feelings for this one.

Of course I feel guilty.

You're not planning to see her again.  
  
It wasn't a question, but it should be. It was lower than callow just to cut her off and never talk to her again, even when he had thought it might be kinder. His brain kept contradicting itself until Tore wasn't really sure _what_ he wanted! Let alone what was best.

The truck came to such a sudden stop Tore went toppling off the bench onto the floor.

"Bracing yourself helps," Kieleigh snickered, though she sounded like she wasn't entirely situated herself.

"What the hell was that?" Tore sat up and realized that nearly half the alchemists had been unseated by the stop for which there had been no warning. Outside, he heard voices and sudden commotion. "Let's go find out."

He didn't have to make that suggestion twice; half the alchemists were on their feet already and heading for the back of the truck. Tore scrambled upright and followed, dropping to the ground and hurrying around the front of the truck –

- to see the entire vast swath of miles of ground between the last rise in the road and the sheer, almost glacial metal and concrete walls of Fort Briggs; the majority of which was _covered_ in a maze of trenches and absolutely swarming with thousands upon thousands of Drachman soldiers!

"Where the _hell_ did they all come from?" Someone gasped behind him, but Tore had no tongue to answer with. Obviously _some_ critical information had not gotten through! The only thing he was aware of, was that there were far more Drachmans at the base of Briggs than should have been left in all of Amestris. Not only had they pulled back and converged, they had somehow brought in a huge number of reinforcements!

* * *

"Even with the Aerugeans and the Cretans, how are we supposed to take them out facing an extra _two divisions _of Drachmans?"

That was the question wasn't it, Breda thought as he looked at the recently updated map in the hastily erected command tent. The Amestrians had the high ground, but Drachma had the plains, the whole of Briggs to fall back upon, and once again they had the sheer force of numbers. If they had supplies, which seemed likely, than they might sit for months, picking off Amestrians as they tried to pick back. There was nowhere else to push but to make them retreat from Briggs, or cut them off on their own border. "We outlast them."

Around him, he saw a lot of skeptical looks, but also curious and hopeful. Breda could almost read the thoughts in their faces. '_He's got something up his sleeve.' 'General Breda always has a brilliant plan that works.' 'If he says we can do it, we can.' _

Breda just wished he had a brilliant plan. All he had was history, tactics, and a damn lucky streak of right decisions. At least, that was how it felt sometimes.

"How are we going to do that?"

He had been expecting that answer. Breda tapped his finger in the center of the map. "We focus our offense here, in the center. They've taken over the whole valley, but there's no really good area of attack anywhere else. We can't approach from the hills directly, and they won't expect us to."

"Which means you want them to _think_ that's the only direction we're attacking from." Leave it to Edward to see it immediately.

Breda grinned over at Ed, who stood with Kane and Mustang. "Isn't that why we have Alchemists?"

The rest of the orders were not all that complicated. The best way to begin dealing with the problem was to look like they were going to play along. The Amestrians would dig in and entrench as expected; block the train and road ways from Briggs south to keep the Drachmans from making any moves around them. Given where the army was there was little chance of either side even attempting a flanking maneuver… all they'd hit was mountain cliff sides. No; they would entrench and start the inevitable months of shoot-out to see who would tire first.

Only Amestris wouldn't leave it that way. They would rally for more troops, and they would put their alchemists to work, harrying the flanks and doing everything in their power to make the Drachmans sorry they had chosen to camp out in Briggs' back yard.

When the meeting ended, Breda waited until the tent was almost empty before leaving himself. It wasn't late, but darkness had fallen. Breda could hear the sounds of digging and alchemy – more obvious from the distinct glow not too far off – as trenches and bulwarks and towers went up along the rocky hillsides and down into the first parts of the valley below that weren't covered by Drachmans. They were too far away for the high ground to be much of an advantage to the Amestrians, but even so Breda's mind couldn't help combing through thousands of war scenarios and texts all long stuffed into his memory, trying to find some new way to apply what he knew to the given situation.

"So that's it, huh?"

Breda paused but didn't bother to turn around as Roy Mustang stepped out of the darkness. "You were expecting something else?" Breda asked with a shrug. "If you can come up with a better strategy, Mustang, go for it. I've been cooking up the strategy for these things for over forty years. I'd love it if someone else came up with something for once." He was tired; so tired. He hadn't seen his wife and kids in a year and a half, and with this new obstacle, who knew how much longer the war could last.

"I will, if that's how you're going to be about it." Still, in orange light of camp fires – the first lights lit – Roy looked more concerned than critical. "We'll come up with something."

Breda nodded and tried to feel a smile. "We always do, don't we?"

Roy nodded, his one eye catching the light with a determined glint. "It's amazing how a generation or two will make men forget how viciously the enemy bites when it's threatened."

Breda snickered. "I've got a better saying; old dogs, new tricks."

"And what a pair of old dogs we make," Roy replied after a moment. He chuckled then and slapped Breda on the back. "A one-eyed hound and a nose-less old hunter."

"My nose works fine," Breda argued with a chuckle. "I can smell dinner cooking a quarter mile away." To demonstrate he pointed in the direction of the mess tent. It was too dark to see it, but he knew it was there. "Care to join me?"

"Given that's the only food available, do I have a choice?" Roy snorted, falling into step as Breda started walking. The dark night glowed in swatches of black, orange, and occasional blue from the snow. It might have been pretty, if not for the fact that it signified cold nights, bad sleep, and more deaths to come.

"You could fast," Breda pointed out.

"I will when you do," Roy quipped.

Breda snickered. "Then I guess you'll never have to worry about it."

**October 18****th****, 1965**

-_So that's about all of my little camping adventure. They wouldn't even let me in the Amestrian Border during the summer break. No civilians are allowed into the country right now; just out. It's ridiculous! It's not that I didn't have fun with Lexandra and Isabelle and the guys on the camp out, but it's hard not to think about home, especially on breaks when I don't have work to keep me busy. At least I have that right now, and plenty to keep me busy. Lexandra's an expert at inventing distraction social engagements. We're going to the Opera with Antigonus and Raul. I'm pretty sure she's trying to set me up with Raul at this point. It's almost worse than high school. I like the Opera though, so I'm sure I'll have fun. _

_Take care and don't get shot again._

_Charisa_

Where was someone to talk to when Tore could really use one? Lying in his tent with nothing to do until his unit was told to move, he had thought Charisa's latest letter would cheer him up. He didn't get them often. Unfortunately, it hadn't; not with the number of times Raul Valentino showed up in it. All Tore knew about him he had gleaned from Charisa's letters, and none of it was good even though she said she wasn't dating the guy. His family had money; lots of it. Not old Cretan noble money, though there was some of that somewhere almost certainly; but international-antiques-and-furniture-dealing kind of money. Apparently Raul was heading for a top spot in the family business. If her roommate was trying to hook Charisa up with him, Tore already wanted to dislike him. _I just want to protect Charisa. She's having it rough right now; she's vulnerable._

_ Noelle's having it rough right now. She's vulnerable too._

_ Shut up. _

It wasn't the same thing. Tore folded the letter and tucked it away safely in his pack with the others. He wasn't in the mood to reply yet. He wasn't entirely sure what to say to some of her letters lately. They showed friendly concern, but nothing more that he could find. Not that he expected to read in any letter from her anything that might count as an outpouring of devoted romantic emotion; that wasn't Charisa's way. Her words were also expressed best in person. Especially if it was personal.

_You're deluding yourself._

Maybe, but I think I prefer it to the alternative.

There were more important things to worry about. Women – all of them – could wait.


	41. Chapter 41

**December 20****th****, 1964**

"Who knew Drachmans could fire tank rounds that accurately?" Edward grumbled as Winry finished tightening the bolts on the cover of his auto-mail arm. He was lucky the whole thing hadn't come apart when he had found himself dodging fire that afternoon.

"Apparently _they_ did," Winry replied with a frown as she pulled out a cloth and wiped the arm down to get rid of the oil.

"Fortunately their accuracy isn't as great as it looked," Roy commented as he strolled in. "They didn't kill a single person; just a lot of defenseless trees."

"Thank goodness," Winry sighed. "Okay, I'm done."

"Thanks." Ed stood and flexed the arm. "Perfect as always." He kissed her cheek.

"Me or the auto-mail?"

"Both, of course," he chuckled at her coy smile. "So, no one else was seriously injured?" He looked at Mustang. The alchemists and their support troops harrying the west side had been under fire for a while, but today had been the worst.

"Not seriously," Roy shook his head. "Riza's twisted her ankle, Fletcher Tringham pulled a muscle in his right leg, the Shock kid has a bruised shoulder, and your daughter's got a mild concussion, but that seems to be the worst of it."

"Thank goodness she's got your head," Winry teased, though there was relief evident in her eyes.

Ed didn't argue the point. "We'll need to be a little more careful about indirect attacks and less predictable movements."

"That's what Breda said," Roy replied with a nod. "Unsurprisingly. Come on," he gestured suddenly to Ed. "Let's take a walk."

Well, that was abrupt. The brief glance Roy gave him as he turned said clearly he wanted to talk to Ed about something out of earshot. "Sure." Ed grabbed his coat and pulled it on. "I'll see you in a bit," he promised Winry as her next auto-mail patient poked his head through the door.

He had no idea where Roy was going, but the Flame Alchemist didn't say a word as they walked briskly through camp and back out towards the edge of the tree-lined cliff to the west that allowed a pretty good view of the armies in the trenches below, but was out of firing range of the Drachmans. The late afternoon sun was hovering above the mountains to the west as if it were defying its orbit to pull it out of sight. The sky hadn't yet shifted away from blue, though it was oddly cloudless over the gray and white spotted landscape.

Roy stopped there, staring down intently at the enemy below as Ed stepped up beside him.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Ed asked.

Roy stared silently downward, the silence stretching between them. "Hey, Ed. That bomb you were trying to find on the other side of the Gate; you said it was powerful. Powerful enough to blow up an entire city, right?"

"Well yeah, but…" What was he getting at? Unless… no way! "Shit, Mustang. Don't tell me that's your plan?" The gate was closed. Ed had no intention of messing with it or anything on the other side! Unless Amestris had been developing the same weapons, but he was sure he'd have heard about that, right? Besides, Mustang had promised all of that would remain absolutely top secret.

Roy seemed utterly unfazed. He chuckled. "Close enough." Roy help up his hand then, poised to snap, but didn't. His grin was one of supreme confidence. "What do I _do_, Ed? Master Hawkeye always said that Flame alchemy was the most powerful, and the most dangerous form of alchemy. Let's show Drachma its full strength."

Ed shook his head, momentary panic giving way to relief. "And you accused me of delusions of grandeur," he chuckled. "I don't think you and Firebrand combined could take out that entire army, Mustang."

"Just me, Ed," Roy replied, his voice quieting as the bravado faded. "I won't need Maes for this one." He gestured in a line that ran down across the valley. "I've been doing a little research, and the refugee engineers out of Briggs tell me there's a natural gas pocket in the rocks here. It runs almost the entire length of that valley."

"That's huge." Ed looked at the land below with renewed interest. "With that much fuel…"

"I could send the Drachmans into space," Roy commented. "Or close enough. We open that up in a rift and we have a wall of fire like never before."

"You think you could control something that big?" Even with a philosopher's stone, Ed couldn't imagine something of the immensity Roy was describing being controlled by one alchemist, or even ten.

"Once it's in flames, all I have to do is guide it," Roy nodded. "The only trick will be reaching it. I need to get up close, and the pocket's almost right underneath the front of the Drachman line."

That left a very open sprint through a few scattered trees and no real cover as a very appealing target in order to pull it off. "You'd need cover."

"Five men, tops." He didn't even hesitate. Obviously Roy had given this a lot of thought. "Soldiers mostly; crack shots. I just have to get up there. They can fall back as soon as the ground is opened. That can be done remotely by almost any alchemist. One of the Xingese alchemists has already said he could do it from as far away as this spot to give me access to the gas."

Ed avoided snickering, barely. "Good. So what does Breda think of your little scheme?"

"I'm about to find out. You want to join me?"

"Of course." He wasn't going to miss this!

Breda's first response was a predictable, "have you completely lost it?" But on enough explanation and contemplation, Ed could see him thinking it over seriously. "It could work," he said finally. "When I said come up with something, I didn't mean you had to do it yourself you know."

"But it's the least chance of loss of life on our end," Roy pointed out. "Six men, right or wrong, it's going to be worse for Drachma than it is for us."

Breda nodded. "You're sure you wouldn't want more back up?"

"Positive," Roy replied.

"How long would it take to get it ready?"

"Getting people out of the way, making sure we know where the gas is for absolute certainty…. A week or so."

Breda looked down at the map, where Roy had penciled in the rough location of the gas pocket. It looked even bigger drawn out. "Get it done. We'll give you the cover you need."

"I'll pick the men myself," Roy didn't quite brush him off, but he came close. "Just get me the most accurate information you can and I'll do the rest."

When they left Breda, the General was calling for men to get things in action for that plan, as well as the strategy leading up until then. The Drachmans had to be completely surprised. "That was easy," Ed said as they walked back towards the alchemists' encampment.

"It was," Roy agreed. "The hard part is going to be explaining this to my wife."

* * *

There was no point in putting it off too long. Riza would find out no matter what he did, and Roy resolved to tell her that night.

"Roy Mustang, are you insane?"

Yeah, that had been the reaction he had been expecting. "It's the best course of action, Riza," he pointed out.

Her fist smacked half-heartedly into his chest. "I don't care! You're a fool to try a plan like this."

Roy pulled her close, hard against him in passionate kiss. It was the quickest way he knew to take the momentum out of a fight. He broke it off first, his hand caressing her cheek. "You're so beautiful when you're pissed at me," he spoke with tender softness. "It's no wonder I've always loved you."

"No fair pulling that when I'm mad at you," Riza blinked up at him, her anger and frustration plain. "What is this, Roy? Why you?"

"Would you rather we sent Maes out to do it?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she scowled.

Roy sighed. He had known she wouldn't drop it, but he had hoped to soften this for both of them. "Because I'm the only one who can pull it off," he replied as reasonably as he could manage. "If I succeed, Drachma will suffer huge losses."

"And if you don't?"

"Amestris loses almost nothing," Roy shrugged. "I've spent my life building up this state. I'm not going to let Drachma have it now, damn it. Besides, I'm the only one with the skill to pull it off."

Riza rested her head against his chest then, her hands gripping his shirt. "I hate it when you're right about something like this."

Thank goodness. "So you're not going to try to talk me out of it?"

"It wouldn't do me any good," her chin tilted and she looked up at him as he hugged her close. "Just don't screw up, Mustang. I want you back."

"I usually don't plan to fail," Roy chuckled, kissing her forehead. "So I don't plan to start now."

**December 27****th****, 1964**

"You've still got one more spot on your team," Maes Mustang pointed out to his father as Sara listened, trying not to pay too much attention as she sat at one end of the large heated tent that had been set up as a common meeting area for the State Alchemists still on the front. Old fashioned wood stoves with pipes that led to small holes in the ceiling made the place surprisingly comfortable, and so she had spent a lot of time there lately. For the moment, it was nearly empty.

"And you're not on it," the Flame Alchemist growled. They had been quarreling for ten minutes. "Your mother's not going and neither are you."

"But I'm a flame alchemist!"

"You'll get in the way."

Sara winced as she watched Maes' face turn red. This was not going well.

"What is this all about?" Maes growled. "Some kind of Roy-Mustang-relives-his-glory-days?"

"This is _about_ saving Amestris!" Roy shouted, getting right up in his son's face without a moment's hesitation. "This is the plan, and your orders are to stay with your unit and fight like you're told!"

Maes glared for several more seconds before he snapped to attention then turned and charged out of the tent.

"Did you have to do it like that?" Riza asked from her chair near the stove. She was frowning with clear disapproval.

"I'll talk to him later," Roy replied more softly. Then he looked around the tent, as if surveying options. Sara knew she wasn't under consideration. She was feeling mostly better, but occasional dizzy spells kept her out of the fighting. It was frustrating really, given how close they were to the border now.

She set down her now well-over-polished boots and leaned back on the bench, her head resting against Franz's chest. "I'd go…if he was taking alchemists," she grumbled as she closed her eyes.

"And if you were up for it," Franz chuckled softly, his arms wrapping around her waist. Sara relaxed, and felt herself almost immediately trying to doze off; the sign that she wasn't going to be good for the fighting for another couple of days at least. At least it was better than the agonizing headaches she'd had the first few days. She was lucky she hadn't split her head open on the rocks she'd slammed into. "I, for one, am glad you can't go."

Sara felt a twinge of guilt; the same one she usually did when she thought about how rough it had to be for Franz to be in the relative safety of the command tent while she was out getting shot at and attacked by alchemists. "You getting protective on me now, Heimler?"

"Wouldn't dream of it," Franz replied, then fell silent. "As long as you don't."

What the heck was that supposed to mean? Sara's eyes popped open as Franz shifted and began to move away. She sat up and didn't even have time to turn before Franz reached Roy Mustang.

"If you're looking for a fifth man, Sir, I'll go."

Sara almost swallowed her tongue as Roy Mustang stared at her husband as if he was as skeptical as she was startled.

"How's your aim?"

"At least as good as yours," Franz grinned. He tapped his glasses with one finger. "These are for up close. The farther away the target the better chance I'll hit it. If you don't believe me ask Mrs. Mustang. She's seen me on the range."

Sitting right there, Riza nodded. "He's excellent," she confirmed quietly. She glanced Sara's direction, and Sara got the feeling Riza almost regretted being honest.

"Can you keep up?"

"I may work administration, but I don't spend all my time behind a desk."

For a moment, Sara almost wished Franz wasn't as good about keeping fit as he was. Not that it made much of a different on a war front. Who could get lazy _here?_

"You fought in the Xing War, didn't you?"

"Before I went officer," Franz answered. "I'm qualified, Sir, and I know the details of the plan as well as you and the General do."

"Are you crazy?" It took Sara a moment to realize she'd blurted the words out loud.

Franz turned to look at her; his expression one of serious, sad determination. Then he smiled. "He needs someone watching his back he can trust, Belle."

"But why you?" _Why when I'm safe do you want to throw yourself in the middle of combat? _

Franz shrugged. "Because I'm here and someone has to." There was no pleading, no nervousness, no anger. He had simply made up his mind to do something. The mission went off tomorrow.  
_  
You had better come back to me, desk jockey, or I'll never forgive you. _Sara sighed. "Be careful."

"Touching," Roy chuckled, "But who says I've made up my mind?"

"He's almost as good as I am," Riza cut into the conversation then, sipping her steaming cup of coffee. "If I were going we wouldn't even be having this conversation. You promised me you would succeed, Roy. If you can't promise the same of so small a squad, than what's the point? Everyone else will be keeping the Drachmans distracted while you get into position."

That seemed to take the talk out of the situation. Roy nodded. "Fine, you're it Heimler. Report to the command tent at oh-eight-hundred hours in the morning."

Franz saluted. "Yes, Sir."

That decision made, Roy Mustang seemed to relax a little. "I should go talk to Maes." With that, he turned and left.

Sara couldn't help staring at Franz as he returned to her side. "You know you have to come back," she blurted, trying to ignore her heart fluttering with unnecessary worry. It was stupid to be any more concerned about this mission than any other. _Except that usually my husband isn't on them. _Selfish perhaps to feel like she shouldn't have to risk him, but there it was. Maybe it was the concussion. "You promised James and Trisha we'd both come back."

"And we will," Franz crouched down in front of her, taking her hands. "I just want to make sure Amestris doesn't lose someone that's a lot more important to the morale and success of this whole thing than he seems to think. I can make a difference here."

_I am not going to cry. Crying is for babies and weddings. _Sara squeezed his hands back. "I know you'll be amazing. You always are."

"I try," he chuckled humbly. "Don't worry, Belle. I just get the feeling that this is what I need to be doing."

Sara pulled her hands away to put her arms around his neck. "Then I'll just have to trust your instincts."

* * *

After storming out of the tent after the disagreement with his father, Maes took a brisk walk through the camps, fuming silently in his head as he moved between circles of tents, avoiding going back anywhere near the State Alchemist encampment while he was so angry. His scowl kept anyone from approaching him, he figured. They avoided his gaze at any rate, or ignored him completely. Around the early evening campfires in the gathering dusk soldiers gathered, chatted, and talked of nothing in particular, or about what they knew from back home. Mixed in with the Amestrian he heard distinct pockets of Aerugean and Cretan. He didn't expect to hear the Xingese alchemists. They camped with the rest of them, and most of them were in the Infirmary tent almost twenty-four hours a day.

They knew nothing of tomorrow's plan other than their parts in it. The soldiers would shoot where they were supposed to, like they did every day. They hadn't been told that they were covering for a very small, seemingly insignificant team that was going to set off a huge attack when it was least expected. The State Alchemists knew, but they were used to keeping secrets.

_What is this really about, Dad? You didn't really answer the question. Feeling over the hill? Need a last stab at glory before you retire? You're already a hero. Why not let someone else share in the responsibility and help you do this? Are plain soldiers better than having a real partner? _

Maybe his father didn't really see him as his equal. That thought brought Maes up short. All his life, even in its darkest moments, his father had never abandoned him. Even when they fought, he hadn't ever belittled him no matter how harshly he spoke. He bragged about Maes' alchemical abilities, his rank, his family… but what if that was a cover? Everyone expected the _great_ General, former President, Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang to do those kinds of things.

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. Maes turned quickly and found himself once more eyes-to-eye with his father. "Something else you wanted, Sir?"

His father's eye flashed with irritation, but he blinked, twitched, and didn't rise to the occasion. "We need to talk."

"I thought we just did."

"Without your mother." Then he turned and left the main walkway. Intrigued now, Maes followed.

They wended their way for several minutes to a couple of old stumps at the edge of the camp. Firelight flickered in the distance, casting everything into stark shadows. The clouds tonight made it moonless and dark; the snow had almost no light to reflect. There, his father stopped, staring off into the darkness as far as Maes could tell from behind. Just as he opened his mouth to ask what he wanted to discuss, his father spoke.

"I want you to take care of your mother."

"What?" Maes stared at his father's back. He couldn't mean tonight. Mom was warm and comfortable in the heated tent. Her ankle was injured, but it would certainly heal. A worrying premonition flickered in his head. "You're not planning on coming back… are you?"

"Don't be stupid," Roy barked just a little too sharply. "I've never lost a battle yet and I don't intend to start now." He turned around. "That doesn't mean something may not happen. Whether it's tomorrow, or next week, or next year. I… I'm not a young man anymore." He averted his eyes as if he was ashamed to have those words pass his lips. His voice softened. "There's no reason to think your mother won't outlive me. I just want to know, for certain, that she'll be taken care of."

It was the softest, most tender Maes thought his father had ever spoken. "Do you even need to ask, Dad?" he replied, his own anger dissipating. "She's _Mom_. I'd rather die than let anything happen to her."

Roy nodded and a small, sheepish smile came to his face. "Maybe I just needed to hear it. She's spent her whole life devoted to me; my causes, my needs. She's always been so stubbornly independent though; doing it her own way. You'd almost think she never needed help herself. Just don't let her fool you into thinking she doesn't, okay?"

Maes' anger had gone. That was it. His father didn't want them both going into battle, because if something happened, he wanted to make sure the family was taken care of. They couldn't _both _go into this one. It was a bit of a miracle that one or the other of them hadn't died already. "I promise I'll take care of her, Dad. Feel better?"

"I will." Then his father laughed and gestured back towards camp. "Come on. Let's have a drink."

* * *

"Heavy drinking already?"

Ethan looked up at his father, laughed, and offered him a bottle of soda pop. "Yeah, why don't you join me?"

Ed dropped down next to him on the log outside the gathering tent and took it with a grateful smile. "Don't mind if I do, just don't tell your Mom," he joked.

Ethan shook his head, amused. "Yeah I'm _sure _we'll get a lecture about how it's bad for our health." They were more likely to get scolded for being too thin than anything. He was sure Lia was going to have a few choice words on the subject when he got home. Try as he might, he was sure he was leaner than when he'd left.

"Maybe our teeth," his father agreed, popping the top off and taking a long draught. "Why are you out here instead of inside?"

Ethan shrugged, watching their breath steam and pool in the wavering light. It stood out brightly against the night. "It's easier to think out here."

"A dangerous pastime," Ed smiled, though Ethan could tell his father was curious. "Anything you care to share?"

Ethan shrugged. "Nothing that isn't as old a theme as these mountains." He took a sip of his cola, grateful they'd still had some for sale in Buzcoul. "I got another letter from Lia."

His father chuckled knowingly. "No wonder you're thinking. Did she say anything interesting?"

"That I can share?" Ethan snickered. "Yeah. It was five pages of everything she's been up to since her _last_ letter, and that one was seven. Every anecdote from school she'd share with me over coffee after work before. Every cute thing – or annoying for that matter – that James and Trisha do while she's watching them. News about Ollie Larson since they're still next door at his parents' place. Bits of things she's heard from Aldon and Cassie about Resembool and the family down there. Most of that's in the letters Aldon sends you guys, but she still passes it on."

"And what do you write back to this encyclopedias?" Ed asked, drinking.

"Short mushy love notes," Ethan couldn't help laughing. They were pretty sorry excuses for letters in comparison. "Well, not so short," he amended. "But I can't exactly tell her about extricating chunks of metal from some guy's stomach or treating the guy who came in covered in acid burns from an alchemical attack."

His father's smile faded as he nodded in understanding. "Not exactly pleasant reading material," he agreed. "So what do you tell her?"

"How much I miss her," Ethan replied, "About the funny stories people tell in odd moments, and how we're winning the war and I hope I can go home soon." Not that he really knew how long it would be, and he almost felt guilty for sounding upbeat. "Then I tell her I'm trying to get enough sleep like I promised, but I think she knows I'm hedging. But she never scolds, and that's almost worse than if she would just come out and do it, or blame me for running off and putting our entire lives on hold because _I _had to do this." Okay, so the self-recrimination had come out a little more forcefully than he expected.

Ed still didn't look surprised. "You learn faster than I do," he smiled sadly. "The one thing I bet Lia wants right now is just for you to show up on the doorstep in one piece. She'd probably even take mostly-whole," his grin widened a little. "You've done more good up here than almost anyone else, Ethan. You're one of the few people saving lives instead of taking them, and that takes a completely different kind of strength and commitment. I think you were right to come, and I think Lia agrees or she _would _have said something. She's not any more subtle about it than Winry."

There was something reassuring about his father's statements, though Ethan found it a little funny that being made to feel like a fifteen year old kid again could be so soothing. "Oh, she's not subtle," Ethan agreed, grateful for the lack of light as his face warmed. He couldn't help grinning though. "Somehow, I don't think I'm going to get much work done when I get home." He wasn't sure he'd be allowed out of the _bedroom_ when he got home!

"Good," Ed chuckled. "That's the way it ought to be."


	42. Chapter 42

**December 28th, 1964**

The air was icy cold, but Franz barely felt it, too focused and anxious for the mission to get under way; or rather, for the combat to start. The mission itself had started in the morning, when Franz had met up with Roy Mustang and the rest of the team before dawn, and they had then spent the next couple of hours sneaking past the Amestrian line and across the intervening space - deceptively large given how far a man could see from the cliffs - towards the point between the two lines from which the Flame Alchemist would set off his attack. There was no way to reach the exact spot without a distraction. Until the Amestrian line opened fire, they wouldn't have it.

It had been surprising just how many trees and rocks there were on what – from a distance - looked like a mostly flat plain. There had been a surprising number of things to hide behind or other features they had come across along the way, like a small lake that had been mostly frozen over for months already at least. Franz wondered if anyone fished or swam in it other than wildlife. Under different conditions - and in warmer weather - it might have been an idyllic spot to play with the kids.

The children and Sara were even more on his mind than usual as he waited, crouching in the cold morning in hiding, waiting. Trisha and James would be heartbroken if he didn't come back. Sara would probably find a way to bring him back just to kill him again for breaking his promise and dying. So, death was not an option. That did not stop the feeling of foreboding that crept upon him with every minute that ticked away. Whatever happened today, he suspected something critical would happen to sway the tide of the war. He hoped, desperately, that it was the success of Mustang's idea.

Franz was glad he knew the details of the plan, or the wait would have seemed even more interminable. As they hiked or hid, he kept track in his mind of what was going on back at camp. It helped give some semblance of action in an otherwise nearly motionless world. The soldiers would stir, move to positions, and prepare for another day's firing at each other like any other. The only questions were usually which side they would fight it out on that day or if it would be along the entire front line. General Breda wanted everything to seem as innocuously normal as possible this morning, other than that the hot-area for the fighting would seem to be centered east, away from the approaching alchemist and his entourage.

That was really all they were, Franz thought. Men with guns there to make sure Roy Mustang reached his destination alive to do his work. In that matter, they were all expendable as long as Mustang succeeded. To Franz though, that mission included surviving to make sure it happened, and making sure he arrived back safely as well.  
Off to the right, the shooting started. _Ten minutes to go, _Franz counted off silently. He watched Mustang intently. The old State Alchemist - retirement seemed moot at this point - had an intent look on his face as he stared in the direction of combat. He wore no gloves yet, but Franz knew why. The last thing Mustang needed was for those gloves to get wet before he needed them.

For all the military dog references to State Alchemists, Mustang reminded Franz more of a cat; a large hunting cat out of the jungles of Aerugo or the mountains of Xing. He was poised, almost perfectly still, his one eye intent as his senses fixed on the fighting in the distance but also seemed aware of everything around them.  
Anxiety mounted as the clock ticked down. Then, when the appointed moment came, they all burst into action on Mustang's signal. Coming out from under cover they moved at a brisk trot towards the destination; a point a few hundred yards further on that was also, unfortunately, within sight of the Drachman line. Still, with the distraction under way, they should make it close before they came under fire.

* * *

"There goes another one," Maes grinned as he watched the tank in the distance erupt into flames. So far, it seemed that today's combat was going well, if not all that different than it had for the past few weeks. The only difference was that today they had stepped up the alchemical attacks again, which had been a little slack lately as they allowed injured alchemists to recuperate.

It seemed to be having the right effect. The Drachmans had concentrated their fire almost immediately on the east end of the line when that was where the alchemical attacks came from. It wouldn't take long before they wondered if there wasn't another attack coming almost certainly, but the idea was only to distract them long enough for his father to pull off his attack. They could manage that right? After all, how long did it take to rip open an underground gas pocket and light it on fire?

"We're on fire today," the Shock Alchemist quipped as lightning danced across the enemy, destroying weaponry and knocking soldiers unconscious or dead in moments.

"Not yet," Maes shook his head. "That's Drachma's fate."

"You think the plan will work?"

It was an odd thing to ask him, Maes thought for a moment. Did Closson think he didn't think his father was capable of it, or did he just want the opinion of another flame alchemist as to the likelihood of success? He decided to assume Closson meant the second. "As long as the Xingese alchemist in charge of getting that spot open does their job and Flame's team makes it there, than I don't see any reason why it should fail," Maes replied. "All it has to do is blow up and get steered north." Okay, so that wasn't as easy as it sounded. "I just hope General Breda's ready to order a quick retreat on our part if it doesn't go as planned."

"He's always ready," Tore replied. "Besides, we've got you for back-up, right? If Flame needs it of course."

"Right." Not that Maes was absolutely certain he could handle a transmutation of that scale, in the wild elements surrounding them, and the sheer amount of power that would take. Really, that was his biggest worry about his father too. Could Roy Mustang, no matter how brash and bold, really handle that much raw power? That was why he wanted to go along; together it would be easier. Still, it felt wrong to be the only one to voice serious doubts about his old man's abilities. "I doubt he'll need the help," he smiled confidently. _He didn't take it when I offered it._ Even knowing the reasons his father gave, it was hard to believe that was all of it. Roy Mustang never let personal attachment get in the way of a mission or affect his personal judgment. _Yeah right. Whoever wrote that bit of history must have been smoking something. _

* * *

Nothing went this smoothly, Roy Mustang thought to himself as he hurried with long purposeful strides towards the point he was looking for. He knew it by distance and by landmarks, but he knew he wouldn't be able to see the distance transmutation circle the Xingese alchemist – a man named Toh – had snuck out and set up two days prior. It had snowed over it like it was supposed to. When he arrived he would be visible to the alchemist waiting for them on the heights; his appearance would be the signal to set off the explosion that would release the gas. Then it was all up to him.

So far it was too simple. Roy felt pricks of paranoia on his neck as he moved forward, unhindered, and with five armed men covering him from all sides at a little distance. They were expendable men as far as the military was concerned. Roy had done his best to pick men without family, who wouldn't flinch from death at the last moment. He was still having second – and third – thoughts about allowing Heimler on the mission. The Colonel had proven his shooting ability to even Riza's satisfaction; his skill was not in question. Roy felt foolish at making that differentiation, but he felt guilty about possibly taking away one more child's parent when it might have been avoided. He supposed at his age it was an allowable consideration. He refused to call it a weakness.

The first enemy shot whizzed past in the air, several feet to his right. It was answered immediately by reports from two of his guards. Further fire followed and in moments it was a fight. _Now this is more what I was expecting. _Roy dodged behind a couple of trees and shifted his pattern, breaking into a jog. _His _objective was his target. It wasn't up to him to get caught up in combat with a few scattered Drachmans. Still, the Drachman scouts beyond their lines had found them, and now it was only a matter of time until the Drachman higher-ups realized that something else was going on.  
_  
Sorry boys, no time to play today. _Roy broke into a full-out run, dodging and ducking and making himself as difficult a target as possible, using any cover he could find. Gunfire continued, and he heard people grunt, cry-out, and fall on both sides, but he had no way of knowing who was down or how many.

Another half-mile; a stitch began to form in his side, and Roy tried to ignore it. His knees ached, but he did not slow down. What good was he if not for this? Age be damned, he was the Flame Alchemist!

At a quarter mile the firing around began to lessen, and at a hundred yards he heard nothing. He couldn't look around to see if anyone was left, not without tripping over something unseen in the snow like a tree root. His sides ached, he panted heavily, heart thumping wildly in his chest from the exertion in the cold. Running through snow was rough.

A crack to his right made him whip his entire head around, and he slid, nearly colliding with a tree before he recognized Franz Heimler, still keeping up, gun drawn; glasses askew on his face. Roy stopped under the tree, panting for a moment.

Franz caught up, looking only slightly less winded. "We're clear for the moment… I think," he told him. "Marshal and Panders are down for certain. I'm not sure about Tiggs and Venkleman." He righted his glasses as he spoke.

Given the lack of shooting, there was no way to tell if they had hunkered down – which Roy doubted – or were injured or dead in the snow. They wouldn't have abandoned their duty, so he assumed one of the later two options. "It's just us then, Heimler," he replied, breathing deeply. "We're almost there."

"I've got your back, Sir," Heimler replied with a determined expression.

"Cover me from here," Roy ordered, and gestured past the tree. "That's the target; between that pillar rock and that bush. As soon as I leave here, Toh should start, and then it should only be a matter of seconds before the Drachmans learn the real meaning of the words _fire fight._"

"Clever, Sir," Franz grinned smugly.

Roy chuckled. "Never go into a battle without a few good lines, Heimler."

"Even if there's no one around to hear them?"

"There's always yourself," Roy pointed out. "As long as you can quip under pressure, your brain is working."

"I see. Good luck, Sir."

Roy nodded, feeling a sobering effect in the moment. This was it. "You too, Colonel." He pulled out his gloves and tugged them on tightly. Then he turned and sprinted for the rock.

Fifty feet from that point he almost hesitated, but no, he had to trust the other member of his team, however distant. He snapped his fingers together and aimed-

-as the spot in front of him glowed blue and suddenly erupted a gush of gas that began to rip a line away from him heading eastward like a locomotive, rock and earth blowing out of its way. In that moment, it caught fire, and a brilliant flame of orange and blue ripped across the ground and down the line, growing taller by the moment; inches, feet, than yards in height as it shot upwards as Roy fed the flames and felt them burning, flickering, growing stronger with the energy of his transmutation.

It was the most glorious feeling he had ever known! With so much raw material it took energy, tons of energy, pouring through Roy and pulled from him as he stood, arms outstretched, feeling the radiant heat that came off the beautiful flames. Gas flames – he had almost forgotten – weren't all yellow like his usual fire. They were blue and purple with licks of yellowish red in places when it cooled or wind blew against them.

But the flames stood against the wind, climbing higher and higher! Roy poured it on, how big could they go? That was what he was about to find out! The line extended well off to his left to the wall nearly, and then right, vanishing in the distance but he could feel it surging now, the fire catching and ripping along, audible in its explosion; popping, clicking, and a constant rushing of expelling gas.

Roy closed his eyes to the flames, relishing the heat that bathed him, and focused, ignoring the sweat popping out on his forehead and under his clothes. Control, he had absolute control over the biggest fire wall in the history of alchemy. Surely Master Hawkeye had never managed something as fine as this. He could almost _feel_ the full length of it, though he was sure that if Toh did his job right, it would extend all the way across the several miles of ground to the eastern cliffs, perfectly dissecting the two fighting armies. _I hope none of the Amestrians were stupid enough to leave the trenches. _It was too late now, but he trusted Breda to have kept orders clear; no charges today.

It was such a heady experience; the perfect flame. A once in a life time experience. _Grow, beautiful fire. I've never felt the like, and they've never seen it. Burn, devour; follow your nature as never before. For me… for Amestris. _

* * *

Roy was either insane, or an absolute genius. Edward decided almost at once that the Flame Alchemist had to be both as he watched the ground crack and split, hissing right down between the Drachman and Amestrian lines, erupting almost at once with gouts of dancing flames that grew, and grew!

"I've never seen anything like it," Kane gasped quietly beside him on the edge of the cliffs, just south of the end of the eastern trenches.

For a moment, the world fell silent; the shooting stopped when both sides realized their bullets couldn't make it through such a barrier. The wall rose higher, and higher; always perfectly even until Ed was sure it stood at least twenty feet tall. "Me neither," he admitted. "I'm impressed."

"That's a lot coming from you," Kane chuckled. "I almost can't believe he did it!"

Ed pried his eyes away from the wall to look down. The soldiers, who had first shouted and seemed like they might panic, calmed by their superiors, now stood transfixed, though those closest to the front line had leapt backwards in shock and a few were pulling back from the heat despite the distance between them and the fire wall.

"Now he's got to get it to bend northward." That had to be harder. The wind was gusting, and the fire needed to be controlled. The gas had a fixed location, and that meant the flames themselves would have to be bent and moved despite the irregular air movement.

On the other side, the Drachmans were shouting, fear and concern clear in the notes of distant voices. They didn't sound defeated though. Not that Ed had expected them to surrender on the spot for a display of alchemy, no matter how incredible.

Slowly blue and white tips began to bend, and the flames began to lean over, angling down towards the Drachmans. _Then_ the shouting really started.

"My god… it's working."

At the slightly breathless gasp, Ed glanced over his shoulder to find Breda, Falman, and Feury all standing behind him. Apparently everyone wanted to see this. A lot of military support who weren't soldiers were still there on the cliffs. The State Alchemists, mostly fighting at a distance, had stopped to watch history in the making.

The fire leaned lower, and lower, the wall growing ever stronger, ever bigger. It dropped sharply, and then spouted upwards. Ed wasn't sure at once what was going on in a moment's hesitation, but a second later the fire roared with an intensity Ed had never seen witnessed by any flame – pure white light that danced alchemical blue seemed to half-consume the valley below with its brilliance! And then, the wall returned to the color of gas flame, and began to spread. It ate over the ground into the Drachman lines and – now lower – Ed could see beyond it.

The Drachman soldiers had broken and fled. Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of bodies already lay burned and smoking as the fire devoured everything in its path.

"He did it!"

"And then some," Breda replied. "I may have to have a word with him later about overkill."

"Oh, what's wrong with enjoying the _show_ part of a show of force?" Ed replied. "I-"

He stopped mid-line. There was something wrong with the scene below. The flames, racing eagerly through the Drachmans, devouring every man, weapon, or pack it could touch; were shifting in the whipping winds, and along the very line that Roy had created, they began to lick the trees on the Amestrian side, which burst into flames almost at once. The sounds of wet trees exploding from sudden heat came to his ears despite the distance.

For whatever reason, the fire was moving out of control.

"Breda! Call a retreat," Ed barked, decorum be hanged. "Now!"

They all saw what he saw then, and in a moment Feury was sprinting for the communications tent less than twenty yards off. Breda followed at a surprisingly quick run. Below, the Amestrian soldiers were acting on their own. Shouting broke out as they turned and retreated at full speed. But it wasn't going to be fast enough, not at this rate. They needed time, and the fire was moving rapidly, and growing on its own, well beyond anything Ed knew any alchemist – philosopher's stone or not – might be able to handle. If it reached the cliffs, it would jump to the forest above on the sides of the road.

"We've got to stop it!" Without thinking, Ed leapt to the edge of the cliff and slid down the incline on his heels, leaping from rock to rock where necessary to reach the ground well below. He pulled the radio out of his pocket as his feet struck earth again. "Alchemists _Build a wall!" _He hoped they understood; he hoped Kane didn't mind his completely taking over. Ed sprinted forward, slammed his hands together and fell to the earth. In front of him the thickest wall of earth he had ever managed erupted in front of him, growing as tall and wide as he could reasonably make it. He couldn't cover the entire valley, but he could make a good dent in it!

His Alchemists – he felt justified in thinking of them that way – didn't fail him. Within half a minute he heard the sounds and felt the energy of dozens of transmutations, all with the same goal in mind – enclose the raging fires in front of Fort Briggs! The wall grew up along both sides; ten feet, then twenty, thirty then forty – taller than any tree on that plain – and angling inward at its peak.

The State Alchemists of Amestris worked in harmony, building the largest wall Ed had ever seen – rivaling Roy's wall of fire in size, if not in difficulty. Nothing could top that. _Get out of there, Mustang. _

Ed kept pouring everything he had into the wall until he heard a voice crackling over the radio. Then another. "Wall complete to the Eastern side. It reaches across the gap to Briggs!" "Pass covered." "Central portion complete." "Touching the wall to the West." "Top of the Cliffs secure."

On the other side, the heat and roar of the flames were only a sound, no longer tangible or visible; but Ed could hear the trees cracking and breaking; hot rocks exploding. He stood, wiped sweat from his forehead with one hand, and stepped backwards.

"So," Kane asked as he came up beside him. "You think the Drachmans got the message?"

Ed couldn't help the half-smile that quirked his lips. "Bright and clear." The smile faded. "I hope Mustang and his team got out."

"Me too," Kane sighed. "Your daughter looked like she was going to lose it when I passed her a minute ago."

"What's she doing out here?" Ed turned and gave Kane a sharp look. Sara was supposed to be resting.

"I couldn't stop her," Kane commented unapologetically. "You called for everyone and she came. She was conscious when I left her, just tired and dizzy."

There was something else. "What aren't you telling me?"

Kane looked startled then sighed. "I figured she'd told you. Heimler volunteered to go as part of the team last night."

"He _what?" _Ed spun around fully, not quite believing his ears for a moment. He hadn't misheard though, not judging from Kane's expression. "I'm going to kill that boy when I find him," he growled. Running off after Mustang and leaving Sara laid up and worried? Ed pushed past Kane without another word, heading in the direction the other man had come from. It led back to the road that led up the slope back to the top of the cliffs.

Around him everyone was falling back. It wasn't until he reached the top that Ed turned one more time to look behind him. From the top of the cliffs, he could still see over the alchemist-made earthen wall. It seemed to stand strong against the ever-spreading fire that was quickly turning more to orange and yellow, sending up billows of white and gray smoke as anything available burned completely.


	43. Chapter 43

**January 3****rd****, 1965**

The fire raged for days. They made no attempts to put it out, merely letting it burn down on the other side of the wall. Why exhaust alchemists trying to extinguish the inferno? It would have been a lost cause anyway. Any celebration of the New Year was forgotten – though somewhat absorbed – in the tentative celebration of a definite victory in battle against the Drachmans. Whether they had won the war remained to be seen, but no one dared claim they had lost the battle!

Among the State Alchemists especially however – while everyone else hustled about, making plans and waiting for word from Central or the Drachmans – there was a hushed, tense waiting feeling that sucked the joy out of celebrating. Sure, they had done something incredible, but no sign had been found of Roy Mustang, Franz Heimler, or any of the men who went with them having managed to get out of the valley before the wall had been erected. They certainly hadn't shown up in camp, nor been found dead or wounded.

Ed felt an uncomfortable knot in his stomach as he joined Sara, who stood anxiously – as she did for hours at a time – staring down at the wall, clearly hoping she would see them returning. He placed his hands on his daughter's shoulders as he came up behind her. "Anything?"

Sleepless, blood-shot eyes did not turn his direction. Sara shook her head ever so slightly. "Not yet."

Ed hadn't told his daughter to accept the likely fact that Franz, Roy, and the rest of them were all probably dead. Partially because he couldn't stand to say anything that would hurt his daughter, but mostly because he didn't want to believe it himself. If anyone could get out of something like that, it was Roy Mustang. For all they really knew, the inferno had been more controlled than it looked, and made for effect. He half expected Roy to show up any moment, grinning insufferably smug and taunting him for not having enough faith in Roy to pull off something so simple even a child – or Ed himself – should be able to do it.

What Ed wouldn't have given at the moment to hear Roy cracking sarcastic short jokes.

"We'll find them," he said instead. The flames seemed to be dying down the last day or so. "Tomorrow, we should be able to open the wall and send in search parties."

Sara shivered in the wind, and did not comment for several long minutes. "I didn't want him to go," she whispered. "He told me to stay, and then he went and did it himself." The last had a bite of anger. "And for what?"

Ed's mouth was open to answer when he heard a shout in the camp. Curious, he glanced around. He saw people milling around near the command tent; a crowd starting to gather. The shouting grew, but it sounded excited. "Let's go find out."

It was clear by the time they got there that it was good news. Soldiers and Alchemists alike were tired but smiling, cheering, and in general excited spirits!

"What happened?" Ed pulled aside the first State Alchemist who came to hand – Lyssandra Fines as it turned out.

"We won, Fullmetal!" She grinned broadly.  
"What?" Ed pushed forward, losing Sara quickly as he shoved through the crowd. Moments later people realized he was there and cleared a bit more of the path. He reached the command tent and shoved inside. A moment later, Sara made it through behind him. "What is this, Breda?" he called out.  
Standing beside the table, crowded around with staff and generals, Breda looked about as triumphant as it was possible to be given the situation. "Drachma wants to negotiate their surrender," he laughed. "I just got off the radio with Rehnquist. The Drachman army is pulling out of Briggs and rescinding their complaints against Amestris. They want to offer their _apologies_."

It was so absurd; Ed couldn't help laughing with him. Still, that was it! The Drachmans had admitted defeat at last. "Now we can get to work rebuilding," Ed sighed, relieved. The first step of that would be to clean up the mess of whatever they had made of the Drachman army, and reclaim and rebuild Briggs. "When do they want to surrender?"

"On the field? Not at all," Breda replied with a shake of his head. "Apparently the cowards feel their government can handle it and have already started clearing out of Briggs."

"How anticlimactic," Falman commented.

"After all of this, I can live with that," Breda grinned. "Though I don't expect much of a victory feast. I hear they've left nothing bigger than crumbs in the Fort."

"Don't start thinking with your stomach yet," Feury chuckled. "We've got a lot to do."

"Tomorrow," Breda spoke up, ignoring the jibe. "We'll put doors in the wall and send soldiers up to the Fort to assess the damages. We will also," he added as he looked around the room, "Send out search parties to locate any survivors of the fire." Aside from Mustang's group, three dozen soldiers remained unaccounted for after the point where the fires had spread. While many of them may well have died in the morning's skirmish, they should at least try to recover them.

Several pairs of eyes tried not to look at Sara, at one end of the room, and Riza who stood between Falman and Feury. As always, despite her worry, she looked collected and controlled. Ed wasn't fooled, and he doubted anyone who knew her was either. Riza was worried, but she too seemed unwilling to believe, just yet, that Mustang hadn't pulled off his plan as near flawlessly as he claimed he could. He had certainly done crazier.

"Sounds like a plan," Kane spoke, breaking the silence. "I'll go ahead and arrange for search parties to be arranged and for State Alchemists who are up to it to accompany the soldiers to Briggs. They ought to be useful in helping put it to useful rights and in shoring things up to prevent another invasion anytime soon."

"A good precaution," Riza commented.

"All right," Breda nodded. "I say we all take the rest of today off, and get down to the clean-up work tomorrow. We've all earned at least that much of a break!"

* * *

Tore had never been congratulated, thanked, or offered alcoholic beverages in so many languages. He was buzzed just in the time it took to walk across camp a couple of times. After all, he couldn't turn down the hospitality of their allies right?

The Alchemists' gathering tent was stuffed full, but quieter than outside. The riotous celebration was out in the snow. Inside the tent he discovered mostly the Alchemists of rank, their family, and close friends.

"Still walking?"

Tore glanced down at Maes Mustang, who was sitting cross-legged on a scrap of rug on the tent floor. "For the moment," he grinned. "You?"

"Do I look like I'm going to try walking anywhere?" Maes laughed, drinking from his beer. There was something slightly forced about his merriment though, and Tore didn't need to ask why. It was the same reason that Mrs. Mustang smiled at her friends, and talked, and mingled, but had a worried look behind her eyes. She was waiting. Maes was waiting.

Sara was waiting. The Twilight Alchemist sat nearby with Fullmetal, Mrs. Elric, and Ethan. As usual, none of them were drinking anything alcoholic and while they looked as relieved as everyone else, the merriment was subdued. Tore felt a pang. He liked Franz. It was hard not to.

It was probably better to let them be, Tore decided. Just as he turned though, Edward looked up and caught his eye. Tore paused, and turned when Fullmetal motioned him over.

"I'm heading up one of tomorrow's search teams," he said without preamble. "You want to come?"

"How early are you heading out?" Not that Tore wasn't interested, but if he needed to start sobering up now, he wanted to know.

"After breakfast," Fullmetal replied. "No reason to drag everyone out of their beds early." Sara twitched like she wanted to object. Instead, she looked at her father. "I'm coming too."

"I said no," Edward barked back sharply.

Sara's face took on a stubborn look that Tore feared if it ever appeared in the office. "I'm well enough to tramp around looking for bodies. It's not like we'll be getting shot at."

Fullmetal still looked hesitant. "I'd rather you stayed here."

"Waiting for word like some housewife?" Sara glowered.

"That's not what he means," Mrs. Elric cut in pointedly. "Don't fight, you two."

"She's well enough as long as she doesn't do anything to knock her head around," Ethan spoke up with a tired smile.

Sara shot her brother a grateful grin. "See, I'm coming."

"What do you think?"

Tore was not prepared for Edward to ask _his_ opinion! "I think… I'm not inclined to get in an argument between too superior officers," he replied, taking the safe route.

Ethan laughed. "Good answer!"

Fullmetal shook his head. "Fair enough. All right, Sara you're on the team. You?" He looked back at Tore.

Tore nodded. "Yeah, I'll go." He had little interest in seeing what remained of the Fort except from a distance, but he definitely want to know as much as anyone else if anyone could have survived that blaze.

"Hey, Shock!" A female voice called out through the din. Tore turned and saw Kieleigh near the far door with a couple of other female alchemists. She was waving his direction.

Tore turned back and grinned. "See you in the morning!" Then he pushed his way around the edge of the room. There was plenty of time still to enjoy himself!

**January 4****th****, 1965**

It was a winter made of ash instead of snow. Low hanging haze greeted the Alchemists and soldiers who entered cautiously through the alchemy-made tunnel doors in the huge wall. The ground was coated in inches of dust and dirt and the bit of snow that had managed to settle on the now-cooled destruction. Nothing was smoking, but it looked like it. The trees, like charred toothpicks, dotted the ground in places, but seemed to stand like sentinels in the mist.

"How will we find anything in this?" Tore commented through a yawn, somewhere off to Sara's left.

Sara tried not to strain to look too hard through it all. It wasn't like she was going to find Franz standing in the first place they entered the valley. "By getting rid of it," she replied, grinning as she pulled on her gloves, put her palms together, and began to push the thick, particulate-filled haze out of the way.

"I wish we were taking you to Briggs," one of the soldiers chuckled from the back of the first truck to pull through.

"We'll see you later," her father waved them on through, then turned to Sara. "Let's head for the primary attack zone and see what we can find."

Sara nodded and followed, nudging the air around them clear as they moved. It was an interesting team for a rescue, but pretty much exactly what Sara would have expected given who was out there: herself, her father, her mother, Ethan (as medic), Tore, Maes, and Riza Mustang. Maes' mother had her rifle on her 'just in case.'

"It's so quiet," Winry commented softly as they walked further into the gloom. "And I've never seen a fire do this much damage. Even the dirt smells scorched!"

"Most forest fires aren't gas fires," Maes pointed out, "Or alchemically enhanced. That was the brightest fire I've ever seen, and that flash… pure alchemist's fire. I'm surprised it didn't use up everything left in the gas pocket."

"Well, it's empty now," Tore commented. "Just like the rest of this place."

"I'm glad we're not in charge of checking out the Drachman lines," Ed replied.

Winry nodded, and Sara agreed silently. That would be nothing but a litter of charred bones. The Amestrians, at least, had had a quick and clear escape route and the State Alchemists to protect them.

They stuck close to the wall to have a visual reference as the moved along the edge of the rim towards the west. It wasn't quick going, even with Sara clearing away the air so they could see a few dozen yards at a time. They stopped for water breaks twice inside the first hour.

"We should be about half way there," Riza commented as she peered into the distance. She seemed as antsy as Sara to keep moving.  
_  
Of course she is, we both want the same thing. _Days without word; what were the chances of the team surviving? But until they found bodies, Sara refused to admit defeat.

She took point on the next leg, and they all took turns calling out from time to time. There were no responses. From their entry point to the mark where the Xingese alchemist Toh had set off his distance explosive transmutation was nearly four miles in a straight line, but they couldn't move much faster, and they didn't take a straight line. If they did, they would lose sight of the wall and rely on nothing but a compass for direction. Doable, but not the fastest way to get around at the moment. Besides, if they were using the wall as a reference point, perhaps survivors were too.

The cloudy day did nothing to relieve the gloom. Sara got antsier as the day stretched into late morning. They had reached the point from which the party had entered the valley and turned to follow their original path.

"Anybody there?" Ed bellowed on his turn. They all stood quietly, just as before, waiting until even his voice had faded away.

"Maybe we should consider heading-"

"Hush!" It was her mother who silenced Ethan's comment. She turned sharply, glancing at a point back east of their location. She cupped her hands to her mouth and took up the cry. "Hello?"

Focusing on that point, Sara waited until she was sure her mother had imagined something.

In the distance was a shout, the words inaudible, but clearly a person. The voice was hoarse, and Sara couldn't even tell if it was Amestrian.

"I say we go that way," Riza nodded and set off briskly.

Sara followed, noting that Tore checked the compass as they left the wall. She hurried her own steps, catching up to Riza's longer stride in moments.

"Keep calling!" Ed called back. "We'll find you!"

Again there was a pause, then what sounded like an affirmative shout. Whoever it was understood Amestrian. They kept going, the unknown voice responding to prompts, and getting steadily closer, if not much clearer.

"Here!" Finally it was audible, and they moved between two charred tree trunks and saw a body lying on the lee-ward side of a stone, leaning against it, legs splayed out.

Sara felt her throat tighten suddenly. Uniform in shreds and half burned, damp and ragged, streaked in char and blood, glasses broken; she still knew that man! "Oh my…" She broke forward, dropping to her knees on the ground, almost afraid to touch him. "Franz! Oh god, Franz."

Bleary-eyed, Franz looked up at her, coughed, and smiled weakly. "Hey, Belle. I knew you'd find me," he wheezed, then his eyes closed.

"Don't you die on me now, Heimler!" Sara startled even herself with the vehemence of her bark.

Half a smile quirked one side of his cracked lips. "Don't… plan on it."

"Can I get in here?" Ethan asked with a gentle smile as he came around the other side of his brother-in-law and crouched down. He pulled on his gloves and laid his hands on Franz's chest. "Let's have a look at you." Everyone else gathered around quietly.

Sara gently shifted Franz's head into her lap as she knelt there, watching her brother as his hands glowed slightly blue. His face was hot. She couldn't tell from all the grime and scraps of uniform what was Franz's blood and what wasn't. They had found him alive though, and she wasn't going to let him die! If he'd been going to, surely it would have been in the days since the fire. "Well?"

Ethan opened his eyes, looking more reassured. "Well he's swallowed and breathed a lot of smoke, and he's got a fever and an upper respiratory infection, and some minor burns on the arms. Given what happened out here, he's doing pretty well." He sat back. "I already did some work to clean out his lungs. The burns aren't infected."

"I'll live…" Franz choked out, eyes opening to slits as he squinted up at Sara through the twisted frames of his broken glasses.

"Here." Sara looked up as her mother handed her one of the canteens.

"Thanks." Sara took it and held the spout to Franz's mouth. "Drink this."

Franz just wet his lips at first, then took a few sips. He was interrupted several times by a cough and once by a sneeze, but he took down a couple of glasses worth before he relaxed his neck again. "That's good." He sounded a little more like himself, however quiet.

"We'll get you back to camp," Ed promised as he came over and squatted down next to Ethan. "But we need to know, do you know if anyone else made it?"

Framz looked momentarily stricken, then he shook his head slightly. "None. The…soldiers died… shot by Drachmans."

"What about my father?" Maes blurted out.

Franz closed his eyes again. "He was… incredible," he whispered. "I've never seen… such a display. A real ribbon of flame. There were sparks and breaks… alchemists on the other side tried to break the wall… but their ice just… made steam. It was perfect."

"What happened to Roy?" Ed asked quietly.

Franz's sad expression returned. "Even bullets… weren't penetrating; they melted before they could. Then there was a… flare, and Mustang he just… collapsed." He looked over in Riza's direction, squinting at her and Maes. "I ran… to him but… he was dead. No wounds at all."

Sara gripped Franz's uninjured shoulder tightly with one hand.

Her father looked like he'd been punched in the stomach. "Something gave out."

"He used everything he had left," Maes said softly.

Ethan nodded his agreement with the hypothesis. "I've never seen anyone use that much alchemical power before, let alone control it. At his age it was almost a miracle."

There was an awkward, mournful silence that lasted until Tore spoke up. "So if he's the only one left, we should get him back, right?"

"Right," Sara's father agreed. "Maes, if you'll help I'm pretty sure we can get him on his feet. I'll see about transmuting a litter. We can-"

"Wait!" Franz spoke up so suddenly it send him into a coughing fit. "Wait I…. Mrs. Mustang."

"What is it?" Riza came closer.

Franz looked back up at Sara. "Belle… my pocket."

Sara reached down to her husband's pant pocket – the only one left intact – and put her hand inside. Startled, she pulled out a handful of items: an Alchemist's watch, an eye patch, two gloves made of ignition cloth, and the bars and stars and stripes of a retired general. She knew what to do, she held them up for Riza.

Struck dumb, Riza stared at them for a moment before their hands touched, and she gathered the items and held them to her chest.

"I'm sorry," Franz continued then. "I tried to… save his body. I couldn't drag it and…escape so I…. took those. I thought you'd… want them. The watch chain I… left around his wrist. If we find… remains."

"Thank you," Riza cut him off gently. "For trying, and for bringing me these." Then she turned away, and Sara saw Maes put his arms around his mother.

"How did you survive?" Tore asked curiously.

"He can answer more questions later," Winry interrupted. "The poor boy is exhausted."

Franz smiled through his exhaustion. "It's…okay. Short story. I ran. There's a pond. I jumped in and stayed there… until the fire went down. Hung on to a log… to stay up. Then crawled out… stayed near the tinder to dry some… and started walking."

"Thank goodness for quick thinking." Sara planted a tender kiss on Franz's forehead. Relief was overwhelming, and she didn't hold back the tears that threatened to overflow her eyes.

"Don't cry…" Franz whispered.

Sara stayed bent close, her nose resting lightly on his brow as the silent tears dripped. Where they hit his face, little rivulets of soot washed away. "I can't help it. I'm so happy you're alive."

* * *

Edward watched his daughter watching her husband – now cleaned, bandaged, and treated – sleeping deeply in the infirmary tent. He let the fabric door drop shut and turned around, giving them some privacy.

"Ready to go?" Winry asked softly.

"Yeah," Ed nodded. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, necessarily, but he didn't want to hang around the infirmary.

Winry paused. "Are you all right?"

"Not really." Ed found himself admitting the truth without guesses or hesitation. He was stunned as much as anyone else and the reality was still sinking in. Roy Mustang was dead. "It's kind of unreal." He pulled Winry close in an impulsive hug. "I really thought he might have survived, if anyone did."

Winry's arms tightened around his chest. "I know. He was such a survivor."

Was. Past tense. Ed felt his throat close and took a moment to compose himself. "How's Riza?" She had held together amazingly well as they got Franz on a stretcher, then located the spot where Franz said roughly he had left Roy's body. Riza had insisted on going with Ed and Maes to locate the remains. There hadn't been much left; the body was ash save for what remained of the half-melted watch chain. Ed had transmuted an urn out of the nearby rock and they had gathered some of the ashes, and the chain.

Winry stepped back, clearly worried about their friend. "She's with Maes. Breda let them have his tent for a while. It's quieter there."

"Is she still crying?"

"Not when I left." Winry reached down and took his hand, squeezing it. "She'd just agreed to let Breda handle the funeral."

That made sense. There was no way it wouldn't be military with full honors. How could the country's biggest living legend possibly rank anything less? Telling Breda, Fuery, Falman, and then the rest of the State Alchemists the news had been heart-breaking. "Well let's see how she's doing then." He slipped his free arm around her shoulders and they left the tent, stepping out into the late afternoon gray.

The weather seemed appropriate to the news and the mood in camp. Yesterday had been one of tension, victory, and near-frantic celebration. Today things were back to business, and while there was a general good feeling, it was muted now, as though the world quietly mourned the passing of one man even more than the others who had died yesterday. Or maybe it was just Ed.

"You want to get a drink?" Winry asked as they walked across camp, footprints lost in the half-slush and new snow mingling at their feet.

Ed almost stopped dead until he understood what she meant. "Coffee would be great," he smiled weakly. "But Riza first."

As it turned out, there was a pot of hot coffee steaming on the table in Breda's tent when they arrived. Riza sat in the chair, clutching a cup that was still steaming. Maes knelt next to her, and Breda was still there, sitting on the bed. All eyes turned to them as they entered.

Riza managed a weak smile. "How's Franz?"

"Doing better," Ed smiled back. "Now that he's cleaned up, rehydrating, and the doctors have had a look at him. He's sleeping now."

"Good," Riza nodded. "I'll thank him again later. It was incredibly thoughtful of him to risk himself to bring me Roy's… affects."

"He's like that." Still, Ed felt a surprising amount of pride in his son-in-law's bravery and ability to survive. "How are you?" He wanted to know from Riza. She had always seemed unflappable when he was a boy, and now even after years of knowing her, it was hard sometimes to know what Riza was really feeling. She had the perfect poker face necessary in the best military officers – and wives.

"Shocked," Riza admitted. "But better than I was earlier. I think the worst of the pain will come when I get home."

Walking into a house and knowing the person you loved was not there; thinking that they never would be again. Ed remembered that empty agony. "You know we're here for you."

"I know, Ed," Riza nodded. "That's why there's something I want you to do for me."

Him? "What's that?"

"When we have the… memorial, I was hoping you would speak… for Roy."

He would have sworn she was joking if this was a hypothetical situation, but it wasn't. "You want _me_ to give a Eulogy?" For the man whom he had once hated as his superior officer; with whom he had quarreled for years. Not that they hadn't gotten past it, but surely Roy had closer friends that would be more suitable?

Riza seemed to read his expression. Despite her red eyes, she chuckled quietly. "It would be ironic," she admitted, "but appropriate. He respected you so much, Edward. Besides which, you're as much a part of everything he did as anyone else. I think he would appreciate it."

Roy would appreciate Ed being the primary person to speak at his funeral? "I'll have to trust you on that one," Ed replied. "But I'm honored."

"I look forward to hearing this," Breda chuckled.

"You're sure you trust _me_ to decide what to say about Roy?" Ed asked Riza. Grief could make people do funny things.

"Yes," Riza replied. "I trust you to figure out what really needs to be said." She sipped her coffee then. "Besides which, I fully expect to be allowed to hear whatever you come up with _before_ the funeral."

Winry was smiling too now, and even Maes looked amused. Ed shrugged, and nodded. He couldn't turn down Riza's request. "Sure, why not?" He smiled too. It was a ways off, and he was touched that Riza trusted him so much. "I can at least promise that it will be memorable."

Breda handed him a cup of coffee. "I think that's part of what she's afraid of."


	44. Chapter 44

**January 12****th****, 1965**

Fort Briggs was little more than a shell. After the valley was surveyed and remains hauled away – in the Drachman case buried together – the available State Alchemists not already there headed up to Briggs to take a look for themselves, and help with necessary restoration that would otherwise takes months or years to complete.  
They really had their work cut out for them, Edward realized, when they walked through the echoingly empty halls he remembered well. Other than the layout – which was in shambles in places thanks to the Amestrian sabotage – there was little difference, just lots of damage and a dearth of supplies. The Drachmans had left nothing functional if they could avoid it.

"Too bad it doesn't take long to fix things with Alchemy," Tore grinned at him the afternoon they finished restoring the electrical systems to good-as-new functionality. Plumbing and heat had taken a little longer, but with alchemists working with the engineers and technical experts the interior was set to rights in a matter of days.

The walls posed another problem. The southernmost wall was singed but otherwise undamaged. The northern wall had been repaired to general usability by the Drachmans, but since they had no reason to defend against themselves, they had merely shored it up and made sure that it wouldn't collapse or leak out heat.

Kane got a team together – which Ed volunteered for – and they spent a couple of days transmuting the walls of Briggs until they were as good as new, and better: Infusing the concrete and stone with extra bars of steel, and making them even thicker and more impenetrable than before.

The one thing Ed had little to do with during that time was the remaining Amestrians, now rescued, and the Drachman prisoners of war, which had all been brought up from their holding locations in order to be exchanged or released. So he wasn't prepared when a dark-skinned Colonel walked up to him and requested his presence down in the cells.

"Who are they?" Edward looked down the line of disheveled, chained men he was supposed to be looking at, though he had not yet been told why. They were lined up a hallway for his inspection.

The Colonel cleared his throat uncomfortably. "The captured Drachman alchemists, Fullmetal Alchemist, Sir. Generals Breda and Kane said that you would know what to do with them."

They hadn't said a word to him. Ed almost said so, but he stopped before his mouth was half open. He _did_ have an idea. "That's correct, Colonel. Could you please locate Alchemist Mei Xian and request her presence for me?"

He looked concerned, but it was quickly done. Mei grinned at him when she arrived. "I'm not used to answering summonses, Edward."

"My apologies," Ed chuckled. "But I could use your assistance in dealing with these gentlemen."

The Drachman alchemists, once sullen, now looked confused and concerned.

"And what would you have me do to them?" Mei's delicate brow furrowed.

"Help me relieve them of their use to Drachma by use of alchemy," Ed replied. The idea was simple, but it seemed much more effective than other punishments he could think of. "It seems dangerous to let them go able to do alchemy, however limited."

Mei seemed to get his meaning. "Where should we put the mark?"

"Behind the ear?" Ed suggested. It was someplace no one was likely to want to try burning or defacing a circle. "I know how to draw the circle; I'm just not sure how to embed it in the skin without tattooing it on. If you think it will work."

"What," one of the Drachmans finally asked thickly, "What will you do to us?"

Ed looked at them again. Clearly they all knew who he was. ::Drachma has used you,:: he spoke up so they would understand him easily, ::To harm others, and with little or no knowledge of the laws of alchemy yourselves. This is not entirely your wrong-doing, however, I cannot let it go undealt with. Half-trained Alchemists are dangerous. This just proves it. We are going to make it so that you are no longer capable of doing alchemy. Anything you attempt will simply fail. We won't hurt you.:: They looked skeptical, but still afraid. Ed turned back to Mei. "If you can do one first, I can follow."

Mei smiled. "Nice to still be the teacher once in a while." She moved up to one of the men at the end of the line, and Ed stepped close. It took Mei only a minute to prepare, and then seconds to do the transmutation. When it was done, Ed could see the anti-transmutation circle he had used a variety of times over the years, only now it was a permanent discoloration of the skin on the back of the ear and extending up into the hairline on the ear-joint. "Your turn," Mei smiled.

They went down the line, and it didn't take long to render all fourteen men incapable of successfully transmuting anything unless they found a way to break the circles that most of them didn't know where they were, and damaging them would be painful. Ed didn't tell them that it was a transmutation circle either. They didn't really need to know did they? Not if they weren't smart enough to figure it out for themselves.

"That was very just of you," Mei commented as they walked out of the eastern prison wing a bit later. "Now Drachma can't abuse their talents."

"Minimal as they were," Ed nodded. "Really I let them off lightly given what they've done." It wasn't too hard to learn to live without alchemy. He had done it before after all, and not always by choice. "I just hope that someday they appreciate it."

**January 15****th****, 1965**

Tore hoped Noelle wouldn't hate him when she got the letter. He had written it the day he arrived back in North City. He had foregone the option of any kind of stop in Buzcoul. He, like many of the State Alchemists, was getting shipped back to Central, and while he knew it was a convenient excuse, he just didn't think he could face Noelle right now given the decision he had come to. It took over an hour to get it down right on paper.

_Dear Noelle,_

See, I promised I'd write. I wanted to let you know that I'm fine. The last fight was really something, but I have to admit I didn't have a whole lot to do with the victory. It was all the Flame Alchemist Roy Mustang's doing really. It really was as fantastic as rumors probably say.

Anyway, I'm sorry that I won't be back in Buzcoul anytime soon. They're shipping us home already, and it's going to take a while to get settled. I didn't even have time to move into the officers' quarters after making State Alchemist before the war started.

I wanted to let you know anyway just how much I appreciated our time together. Your support and that time was something I needed; it bolstered me when I was down, and made me feel hopeful. You were someone who could remind me what we were really fighting for when all we did day after day was kill. What we had was great, but

I'm not in a good place for more of a relationship right now. Not mentally or emotionally, and I'd be lying if I tried to pretend otherwise. I just hope you don't feel like I took advantage of you. That was the last thing I ever intended.

It just wouldn't be right to rearrange my life, or ask you to rearrange yours after only a couple of weeks together, no matter how amazing. You're needed where you are, especially right now, and I have my assignment. Please know it's not you. I'm not ready for a real relationship with anyone right now. Not after everything that's happened the last couple of years. I need to get myself sorted out first before I can be a good partner for anyone.

So if you find someone else, please don't hesitate to leap on the chance, or feel guilty. I want you to be happy. You more than deserve it for all that you do. I will always consider you, whatever happens, a good and true friend, and I hope you feel the same.

Fondly,  
Tore

_P.S. The return address is Fullmetal's in Central. If you reply I will get it there, and send you my new address if you tell me you want it. _

**January 17****th****, 1965**

Home; it had been almost two years since Edward left Central. There hadn't been a single leave time when he had made it closer to home than North City. He'd had too much to do. But he was glad it was done. No more sleeping in tents in the cold. No more using latrines – or sneaking out behind a tree. No more mess tent slop for meals.

Beyond the Observation car window he saw almost nothing except his own reflection against the night landscape beyond, and the occasional spot of light of a lonesome farm or a small town in the distance. It wasn't too late, just a little before ten, but the car was nearly empty. Surprising, Ed thought, since he had rather expected the soldiers and alchemists who got to head home first to still be reveling. Or perhaps they had just taken the parties to other cars.

Sara and Franz were tucked away quietly in their birth. Ed was glad his son-in-law was healing well. His fever had broken quickly, and while he was still coughing and blowing his nose regularly, his breathing was easier. Once he had rested up some, most of his burns had been healed outright by alchemists. Ed contemplated checking in on them, but suspected they would rather not have company when they finally had time all to themselves.

He had seen Ethan on the train earlier, chatting with some of the guys, and Tore hanging out with some of the other alchemists closer to his age. The Tringhams were on the train too, though Ed had seen nothing of Russell since the end of the fighting, and little enough of Fletcher, who he knew was doing his best to help his brother before he went home one son less than when he left. Ed felt for him. Losing family was tough, and he knew the fear of losing a child. The actuality would be tremendously painful.

He turned and headed down the car. There was one person sitting at a table there, and as Ed came level with it he had to stop, and stare, and shake his head. The entire table was spread with a veritable feast! "Where do you think you're going to put all that?" Ed commented with mild amusement.

Breda looked up at him and smirked. "Where do you think?"

Ed shook his head. "You eat like that all the way home and Nancy's going to have a fit."

"I've been living off the same field swill as everyone else for a year and a half," Breda objected with a snort. "And that's not the extra rations-and-a-half you alchemists get either. I'm going to enjoy a real meal and when I'm good and stuffed I'm going to sleep and if anyone wakes me before noon tomorrow there had better be a damned good reason!"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ed chuckled.

"What are you doing wandering around this late?" Breda asked, as if realizing only then that Ed was alone. "And where's Winry?"

Ed tried not to let his smile fade. "She's asleep. I wasn't ready so I left to give her peace."

"Well you're welcome to sit down and join me," Breda offered. "There's more than enough, even for you and me."

"I don't know," Ed shrugged. "Dinner wasn't that long ago."

"Well have a late night snack," Breda quipped. "This_ is_ my dinner. It's the first peace and quiet I've had in months. Don't tell me you're going to pass this by? This is some prime steak here."

Ed gave in to the offer and sat down, though he only carved off a small section of the steak. He really wasn't that hungry, though it had nothing to do with how long ago dinner had been. "Thanks." It was definitely tasty. He fell quiet again, his mind drifting back to dwelling on thoughts of family. They had gotten letters from almost everyone recently. Everyone… except Al and Elicia.

"Is something on your mind, Ed?"

"Is there ever anything not on my mind?" Ed asked.

"Point made, but you're dodging the question."

Ed shrugged and took another bite. "I've been thinking about Alphonse," he admitted. "I haven't heard from him since he left, and it still seems off that he left as suddenly as he did, even though I think he should have."

Breda looked guiltier than Ed had seen in quite some time. "Ed… Al resigned."

His forkful of potatoes stopped half way to his mouth, forgotten. "What do you mean resigned?"

"He turned over his watch and his commission the day before he left on the first train," Breda admitted. "He said he wanted out of the military."

The world felt like it had fallen out from under Ed's feet for a moment. It took conscious effort to think. "And you let him do it?"

"Of course I did," Breda nodded gruffly. "It was Al's decision and frankly I think it's the one he should have made. You're the one who removed him from duty, Ed. Why are you surprised?"

Guilt made Ed look away for a moment and he focused on the food. "I didn't think he'd quit over it."

"What makes you think that's why he did it?"

"Why else would he?"

Breda shook his head. "This isn't about fault. Al's reasons are his own, but given the last few years, I honestly expected him to leave a long time ago. After Elicia was hurt I really thought he'd retire, but he never did let his work slip and he seemed to need it."

"So why the hell didn't you tell me about this earlier?" Ed stared at Breda.

Breda stopped cold, and Ed knew he wasn't going to like the answer. "Al asked me not to tell you until after he'd gone."

"That was months ago!" Ed pointed out.

"I'm sorry, Ed. I couldn't think of a good way to bring it up or tell you, and things have been busy." Breda looked decidedly apologetic.

Ed wanted to get angrier, but he couldn't blame Breda for not wanting to tell him or focusing on the work that needed to be done. "They have," he sighed. "Damn it!"

"Ed, if you're feeling guilty about what happened, don't you think apologizing would help? I mean, this is Al we're talking about."

Breda really didn't have a clue did he? "I tried," Ed explained, feeling the frustrating welling. He had been trying to hold it back for months. "He avoided me after the fight and he wouldn't talk to me unless he had to. It's not like we've never been mad at each other before, or gotten into fist fights," he smirked humorlessly, "But I know he's resented me for years over what happened Drachma. This… he's never been angry with me for this long before. I'm worried about him. His silence concerns me."

"You don't know what to do about it."

"If I did I'd have done it by now," Ed continued. It felt good to get everything out in the open and talk to someone. Winry knew how he felt, but that wasn't really the same thing. "I don't think I can ever stop thinking of him as my brother. I didn't think it was interfering with the military or my decisions regarding him, but he does."

"So that won't be a problem anymore," Breda pointed out reasonably between bites.

"Except that now we're not even talking," Ed shook his head and ignored the mental suggestion that he could really use a drink. "I just don't get him anymore." Maybe when he got home, they could talk things out. Al had months to cool down. But then why didn't he write?

"He feels like you've been holding him back."

"What? That's ridiculous!"

"Think about it, Ed. He's been in your shadow his whole life. No matter how much he's accomplished as the True Soul Alchemist, he tends to take jobs in the background or as part of the team. When the people of Amestris think of Alphonse they think of _The Elric Brother_s; always the both of you in conjunction."

"What's wrong with that?"

Breda smiled wryly. "You're the Fullmetal Alchemist. Al tagged along on your adventures as your little brother. He wasn't assigned to them. Only those of us who knew you both know just how involved Al was with that. It was all about_ you_ to the public. Then he was focused entirely on getting you back; that was his life goal. Then you were reunited, and you were even older than he was right? You've had tons of adventures over the years, but when you got back, you got offered four-star, Al only got offered Brigadier General. He's worked his way up since then, but always you're the one the public looks to. His older brother is a living legend and that's got to be hard to deal with when you do things. In Drachma, you denied him justice. Or at least I bet that's how Al felt about it."

Ed nodded reluctantly. Al had made that fact painfully clear. "I'm not trying to hold him back. What the hell would he have accomplished if I did anything differently than he has?"

"Maybe nothing physically," Breda shrugged. "But it's perception, Ed. If Al feels like he's lost something because of your actions, than that's what matters right now isn't it? You _did_ relieve him from duty and his command in the middle of a war, and that fight was entirely public. No one in the military _doesn't _know about that by now. You made it open knowledge that you didn't trust his judgment or approve of his actions. If you don't trust him in command, how is anyone else supposed to?"

"I already feel lower than a worm. Thanks for rubbing it in," Ed grumbled. Breda seemed to have a perfect read on this. "That wasn't because he's my brother."

"Wasn't it? Would you have been nearly as upset about any other soldier killing the enemy on the battlefield?"

"It's not the death; it's the how and the reasons behind it."

"Which you only know because he's your brother. With anyone else you would only know the actions, not the reasons. Likely you wouldn't have been there at all to witness it. He'd just be another dead body. So isn't it because it was _Al_ that it bothers you so much?"

"Shit." Ed couldn't think of anything more appropriate to express the heavy feeling of self-loathing that suddenly crashed down on his head. "I just never wanted him to have to deal with all the crap I've had to," he admitted brokenly. "Al's always been the stronger one of us; more emotionally durable, better with logic, a better fighter; maybe not by much anymore but we've always done things together. I thought… I always thought he wanted it that way." They had both agreed long ago that they were what the other had; they were a team. But had Ed been the one who broke that team? Or did Al want that disassociation for other reasons? "Damn this is complicated."

"I wish I could help," Breda replied sympathetically. "But I'm not sure I can offer much other than moral support."

"The insight is worth enough," Ed smiled weakly. He didn't want Breda to think he wasn't grateful, as much as the truth hurt. "Even if it doesn't help until Al's willing to stay in the same room with me for long enough to talk."

"Try telling him what you told me," Breda suggested. "What's probably hurting Al most right now is how much he still loves you as his brother. This can't be easy." He leaned back, and then smirked. "What happened to not hungry?"

Ed looked down at the empty plate in front of him and the one next to it. He shrugged and smirked. "Full stomach usually helps a full head."

Breda snorted. "Tell that to Nancy. She's never believed me."

"Probably because you never seem to empty out either," Ed chided.

Breda didn't seem to mind the teasing. "This is the first time in months I haven't been half empty," he chuckled between bites. "As far as I'm concerned, we've earned it."

Ed picked up the glass of water next to him and saluted Breda with it. "We sure have."

**January 20****th****, 1965**

Alphonse left Yock Island late in the afternoon on purpose. He waited until the tiny speck in the dress on the shore turned to walk, once more, back to Curtis' Meats. Almost four and a half months of primitive hermit life had done, as best they could, what he could have asked of them. He hadn't figured everything out, but he yearned, more than ever, to be back among the living, and he supposed that mattered most.

It was full dark when he landed the boat on shore, tied it to its mooring, and began the walk back through town that he had just watched Elicia depart on. He knew that she had come, every day, to spend some time staring out at the island. If he was on the beach, he saw her, a mere speck in the distance. But her regularity and her hair in the wind told him who it was. It waved longer now, silky, as if to say _I am Elicia. _

He felt guilty for leaving her alone so long, but by giving himself no alternative, he had been forced to face himself, and the world, as it was; just as he had as a boy. It had been too long when all he had to do all day was provide himself with food, shelter, and plenty of time to devote to thinking and righting himself in mind and in body.

Al felt like he had made pretty good progress on both. As he rounded the last corner and saw the lights on in the house behind the butcher shop, he smiled and hurried his steps. His hand touched the door knob, which he turned as he walked right inside.

Elicia and Sig were sitting at the little kitchen table drinking tea. Their faces both turned towards the door as soon as it squeaked. There were several moments before Elicia's eyes widened, and then she squeaked and leapt from her chair, flying into his arms.

Al caught her willingly, eagerly holding her close to him, kissing her with the eagerness and relief and pleasure that – he felt – had been missing in his return from the war, but that should have been there.

"Alphonse," she gasped, "I missed you. I had no idea when you were coming back."

"Neither did I," Al admitted with an abashed smile. "But you gave me such a funny look."

Sig chuckled as he stood up and put his tea cup in the sink.

Elicia laughed. "Well, you look pretty different." She turned him towards the little mirror hanging in the kitchen, and Al immediately understood why it had taken her a moment to react to his return. His face, a little heavy on arrival, was thinner, maybe even a little more than necessary, and covered with a thick beard. He hadn't bothered with shaving often on the island. It wasn't worth the trouble. _Well, I don't look quite like Dad. _He chuckled. "Yeah, I do. I'll shave tonight."

"Oh I don't know," Elicia giggled. "I kind of like it. Not the scruffiness, but I think you might look very dashing with a bit of beard. Maybe something trimmed down more, like Breda or my father."

Al turned back to his wife. "Tell you what then. _You_ can shave me tonight and do whatever you want with my face."

"Now there's an interesting offer a girl doesn't get every day," Elicia brought one hand up, stroking his cheek. Her expression softened. "Did you figure out what you needed?"

"Some," Al assured her. "Not everything, but I couldn't stay out there forever. I missed you too much."

"Or at least my cooking," Elicia teased, her arms going once more around him. "You look like the survivor of a shipwreck in one of those Cretan novels."

"I thought you'd be glad I lost weight," Al smiled back, kissing the top of her forehead since it was the closest part of her in reach.

"I didn't say I wasn't," Elicia said. "But I think you might have over-done it just a little."

"Well it's pretty easy when you're living off fish, roots, and berries," Al pointed out. "Speaking of which, please tell me I haven't missed dinner." His stomach was rumbling in protest, since on the island he had normally gathered his dinner by now.

"Not at all," Sig grunted from the kitchen, near the stove. "Your wife makes fantastic meatloaf."

It took Al a moment to realize that he didn't smell much. He sniffed the air again, until Elicia chuckled. "We just put it in. You have time. Why don't I get you cleaned up?"

Not _why don't you go bathe, _but _we. _Al kissed her again and gently steered her towards the hallway and the stairs. "Yes ma'am!"


	45. Chapter 45

**Still January 20****th****, 1965**

"So what do you want to do now?" Elicia asked Alphonse as they cuddled in bed together after dinner. She lay cradled in his arms, her hair draped over the arm he had under her neck.

"I'm doing it," Al replied with a tired smile and a chuckle, kissing her cheek. It was amazing how much like himself –and yet renewed- a man could feel after a home-cooked meal, a hot shower, a shave, and some time alone with his wife. After months of working out day after day he was hardly worn out, but he did feel blissfully at rest.

Elicia smiled and turned her head to look at him, her silky pale yellow nightgown rustling against the sheets. "I mean now that you're back with me," she clarified. "Tomorrow, and the day after. Does this mean you're ready to go home?"

It was something he had been asking himself for a while. "No," he replied. "Not yet. I was thinking, maybe we could finally do a little traveling, just you and me," he ran one finger of his free hand along her soft jaw line. "We don't even have to leave Amestris. I just want to spend time with you again. Unless you don't feel like being romanced," he chuckled.

"I didn't say that," Elicia smiled softly. "I miss everyone, but there's always the phone. I think I would like to run off with a handsome man for a little while."

Al felt a moment of profound relief. He wanted to return to the world a little at a time. He wasn't ready to face Edward again, or face the thousand little changes that had surely happened while he was gone. A world rebuilding, at peace: seeing it with Elicia in the small, quiet places; that sounded heavenly right there. "Great!" After Elicia's absolute refusal to leave Central for so long, it almost seemed like a miracle that she had come to Dublith even. That she was willing to travel was a sign of healing for himself as much as knowing that Elicia was better and ready to move on to. "So, what romantic little hideaway should we visit first?"

**January 21****st****, 1965**

No matter how often they went away, the Central train station always seemed homier every time Edward came back. Perhaps because over the past years it had been the site of so many heartfelt goodbyes and joyous reunions. That afternoon was no exception. He emerged from the train with Winry at his side, and half his family with him this time, but a good portion of the other half was waiting on the platform.

Lia practically tackled Ethan, barely giving him time to drop his back before they were locked in a passionate embrace. After a few seconds Ed began to wonder if they would untangle themselves long enough to get home.

Grinning, he turned to watch Sara and Franz reunite with Trisha and James, whose squeals were every bit as enthusiastic as their aunt's, but much more childishly joyful.

"My gosh you've grown," Sara laughed as she hugged both of them at once.

"Three whole inches!" Trisha beamed proudly.

"Its s good to be home," Franz didn't get down on his knees, but he did hug the kids tight in turn, and then all four of them hugged together.

The real surprise though, was Aldon! "I thought you went back to Resembool," Ed exclaimed as he hugged his son. It was good to see him standing on his own after the last time they had been in the same place.

"We did," Aldon chuckled. "But as soon as we knew you were coming home we hopped on the train to come up for a few days. I hope you don't mind house guests, Cassie and the boys are all at the house. We only got in this morning."

"Well I think it's fantastic," Winry pushed in to give him a hug. "Of course we don't mind! Will we all fit in the car?" She looked around at the group.

"Lia and I each drove one," Aldon explained. "That way Sara and Franz can just drop me by the house and leave whenever they want."

"Sound good to me, Don," Sara smiled.

"Where's everyone else?" Ed asked with a laugh, though he did wonder a little where the other half of the family was. He didn't see Will, or Alyse… or Alphonse and Elicia.

"We weren't sure what time you'd be in exactly," Lia explained as she finally dislodged herself from Ethan long enough to reply. She was still grinning ear to ear. "Or if you'd rather have a rowdy reception or time to settle in quietly. We decided to ere on the side of less-chaotic. I'm sure if you want to invite everyone else over they're probably available."

Ed thought about a house full of himself, Winry, Ethan and Lia, Tore, and Aldon, Cassie and their entire brood: twelve people as it was, plus however long Sara, Franz, and the kids wanted to visit. "I think sixteen for dinner tonight is enough," he admitted, trying to keep a happy countenance. He didn't want to bring everyone else down with his disappointment that Al wasn't here.

"Maybe fifteen," Tore commented as he joined them. "I'm going to go see how Whitewater's doing."

"Given how crowded things are going to be, that's not a bad idea," Aldon admitted.

"If you can't reach him in his rooms, try calling Alyse's apartment," Lia suggested.

"So they're still a thing, huh?" Ed asked as there was a general scramble for packs and movement towards the cars.

Lia chuckled. "Oh yeah. It's almost guaranteed they're together in the evening, whether it's his place, hers, or out somewhere."

"I'll keep that in mind," Tore chuckled.

They pushed their way through the crowds and out to the parking lot, which was full of families piling into vehicles. In the distance, Ed saw Riza getting into a car with Maes and Elena; all three of the children were also in attendance. He hoped having family around her would help ease Riza's pain at having lost her husband.

As they climbed into the car, Ed took the wheel, letting Lia slide into the back with Ethan, where she promptly snuggled against him. Through the rear-view mirror, Ed watched his son put his arm around his wife again.

Ed couldn't resist doing the same with Winry when she sat down beside him and buckled up. She chuckled. "I wasn't aware it was permissible for the driver to hit on the lady of the house."

"Who says?" Ed asked, pretending to look affronted. "Besides, until we get home, we aren't in the house."

"True," Winry nodded. "But lady of the car doesn't sound nearly as classy."

Ethan burst out in laughter in the back seat. "Okay, not that I'm one to talk. But will you stop flirting and drive?"

* * *

There was a decent amount of chaos after dinner. While Edward and Winry had originally bought their house with the idea of a family in mind, he had never quite expected to pack it so completely! He and Winry had their room; Tore had his, and Ethan and Lia were not put out of theirs. Aldon and Cassie took the guest room, and made up beds for little Edward and Ian on the floor out of blankets and sleeping bags. Coran, Reichart, and Urey were camping out in the living room.

While Daia seemed happy to curl up in the master bedroom and sleep, and Rapscallion to haunt Tore's room awaiting his return – and hiding from the boys - Pir bounced around everyone, sniffing excitedly into everything and begging to be played with. There was something of puppyish-ness that the dog had never grown out of.

At the point where the lines for bathroom showers and baths began, Ed slipped downstairs and put on his coat. He perused the closet a moment before he decided – having left it here for two years – that tonight seemed like a good night for the red one.

"Going out?" Winry asked curiously when she spotted him.

"Yeah, I thought I'd take Pir for a walk," Ed smiled as he held up the leash. "Get him out of everyone's hair."

"And get some quiet for yourself?" Winry smiled knowingly. "Sounds nice. Don't stay out too long, okay?"

"I won't," Ed promised, kissing her briefly before he corralled the hyper dog and headed out into the chilly night.

Compared to the North, Central in January felt downright balmy. It was dry tonight, without snow, though the nip in the air said there might be flurries coming. Still, after everything he'd been through, the minor discomfort the weather caused really seemed like nothing. The neighborhood looked, for all purposes, almost exactly the same as it had for the past thirty plus years. One neighbor had a new mailbox. One house had children's toys out front when he knew the previous occupants had been an old lady and her widowed daughter. Little things, but the rest was blessedly the same. Yet it was also a little eerie; the way coming home always was, as if the world had gone on without them while he and the others were off fighting.

Walking Pir wasn't Ed's only reason for going out tonight, though it was something he had wanted to do; just him and his dog in the quiet. It didn't take them long to walk the distance to Alphonse's house. Tonight, if only for a few minutes, Ed wanted to talk to his brother and patch things up.

Lights were on downstairs when Ed walked up the path to the house, so Ed supposed everyone was still awake. It wasn't late after all. At least he knew someone was home. Ed knocked on the door and waited.

It took a minute, but before long Gracia opened the door. She looked startled for a moment, and then smiled warmly. "Hello, Edward. I wasn't expecting company this evening."

"Good evening, Gracia. Is Al here?" Ed asked with a smile back. It was good to see her friendly face.

For a moment Gracia looked pained. "I'm sorry, Ed. He's gone."

Wait, what? Ed tried to understand. "What do you mean gone?"

She sighed. "Come inside. Let's talk."

"Gracia! Please tell me this is some kind of sick joke." Ed followed her in, leading in Pir, who growled playfully at the cats, who were smart enough to bolt upstairs immediately.

"Sit down, Edward." Gracia commented and, as soft as it was, it still held the ring of a command that expected obedience; a mother's voice. Ed followed her into the living room and took a seat on the couch, where Pir sat down at his feet. Gracia sat down beside Ed. "Alphonse was home for less than twenty-four hours. When he came in the door he fell to his knees at Elicia's feet, told her that the alchemist was dead, and started crying right there as she hugged him. They went upstairs and didn't come down again until the next day, not even for dinner. When I got up they were already on the train elsewhere."

Al hadn't even waited for Ed to come home… to see family. He'd just…gone. Ed couldn't believe it of his brother. "Where did he go?"

"Alphonse didn't tell me initially," Gracia replied, meeting his eyes with an even gaze. "He just said he needed to think and that they would be back when he was done."

To think? Ed shook his head. "That idiot…. I need to talk to him, Gracia. Do you know where he is now?

Gracia sighed. "Elicia told me they were staying with an old family friend at first. They went to Dublith, which is where they've been for the past four months or so."

That, at least, made a little more sense. In his distraught mental state, Al would certainly have gone someplace conducive to focusing, and training. Dublith was a second – or now third he supposed – home. "Are they still there?"

Gracia shook her head. "Only briefly. Elicia called me this morning and said they were planning to do a little sight-seeing." She smiled then. "Something about Alphonse wanted some time just the two of them; something romantic."

Ed couldn't help smiling. As disappointed as he was, he felt a bit of relief. "That sounds like Al." It was the first thing in a while that really did. "So, I guess they won't be back for a while."

"I don't think so," Gracia agreed. "But I haven't been lonely," she assured him with a smile. "Elicia calls at least three times a week, and Will and Ren come over regularly. Alyse too."

"Has she brought Fischer with her?" Ed couldn't help his curiosity, not after Lia's comments.

"Several times," Gracia smiled, clearly pleased. "I enjoy it when she does. He's very lively, and very good at playing the gentleman."

"Interesting that you should say playing."

Gracia laughed. "He's no more refined than any of our friends were at that age, but he has a good heart, and he treats my granddaughter well. That's what matters."

"You think they'll make it permanent?" It was the first time Ed had paused to reflect on Cal and Alyse's relationship in what it really meant as far as family impact. Fischer would be Al's son-in-law, which made him indirectly related to Ed and his family as well.

"I rather hope they do," Gracia replied. "They make a good pair, and he fits in with the family surprisingly well. Oh, but listen to me gossiping," she shook her head. "Would you like something to drink, Ed?"

"No, I'm good thanks," Ed replied. "I really ought to head back towards home. I told everyone I was walking the dog. If it takes me too long they're liable to send out search parties."

"In Central?" Gracia looked amused.

Ed chuckled as he stood up and brought Pir to heel. "Right now, it's probably instinct."

* * *

"So that's why we haven't heard from them in a while," Winry commented, sitting down on the bed next to Edward. She had been concerned when Alphonse left in August, and she hadn't heard anything from Elicia in quite some time. Now, it seemed, that was to give Al his continued privacy. She could hardly blame her friend for that. "I'm glad they're going to have a nice vacation finally," she added with a smile.

"Yeah, me too," Ed replied, smiling, though it was still subdued, the way his humor had been since getting back from his walk. "I just wish I didn't feel like he was avoiding me."

"Give him time, Edward," Winry said softly, hugging him from behind. "You know Al. He needs time to get his head on straight and think things through, but he always comes around eventually."

"He's resented me for almost six years, Winry," Ed replied softly, his voice breaking slightly. "And I didn't even realize it until the fight. I want to make it up to him and I don't know how. He won't let me apologize."

"I don't think Al will be mad at you forever," Winry assured him. "It's not his way. But he's been through a lot. If he needed time to think, than I bet what he's doing is making himself deal with what's going on in his head so he can get past it. You know he likes to go off alone when he's troubled, and he hasn't been able to do that for a long time. Besides, he took Elicia with him. That's a good thing."

"I know it is," Ed agreed, leaning back against her, one hand coming up and resting on her arm. "But that doesn't make me feel better about this whole mess. I can't even figure out if it's a misunderstanding or if it's really my fault."

So much for Ed not having another major guilt trip. Winry gave him a squeeze. "You know what? Al's probably insecure about it because of his own failings too. He's so hard on himself, like you. He's probably beating himself up about this whole mess as much as you are. The next time you see each other I bet you hug, apologize, and both have a laugh about the whole thing."

Ed turned his head enough that she could see his face. He smiled. "I hope so. I guess I'm still trying to understand what happened. I mean, he just up and walked away from the military, like it was easy, even after so many years and everything we've accomplished. If it was that simple, why did he stay in so long? Why not get out earlier?"

Winry sat, listening as Ed poured out the pile of questions that always seemed to build up in his head. Sometimes, he needed to let them out, and just the act of talking would give him new perspective. If not, he always wanted hers. "Well," she asked when he finished, "Why haven't you? You hated being in the military when we were teenagers, but you took Mustang's offer just like Al did. You could have chosen to retire any time; after the Xing War, after Aerugo, when you were almost too sick to work, but there's some reason you stayed too, right?"

"So you think that maybe we had the same motives," Ed said thoughtfully.

"I do," Winry replied. "For all your differences, when the two of you agree to do something, your reasons are often the same."

Ed pondered that for a minute. "It was familiar," he finally admitted. "It was the only thing I really knew how to do, and it offered all the benefits I'd gotten used to having for backing my research. Man that sounds self-serving."

Winry chuckled and kissed his cheek. "Not really. It's a job that makes use of your strengths and makes it possible to make a living out of your talents. Besides which, Mustang's offer allowed you to make such a difference. Think about it. If you and Al hadn't started the training program and done all the work you have, we would never have had a chance of winning this war." Decades in the making, her husband had created a higher level of skilled alchemists, all capable of combat but unlikely to abuse those abilities. "And it wasn't by turning them into killers."

"You're right, of course," Ed agreed, he pulled free of her grasp enough to turn and lie down on the bed, pulling her gently down with him. "We had ideas, and we put them into effect. The program doesn't require us to run anymore, as much fun as it is to train potential State Alchemists, and keep them improving afterwards. We did what we wanted to do, and now Al has completed the last goal I think he really had."

"He's been struggling with what happened in Drachma for a long time," Winry nodded. "Tamirov is dead and Elicia is well. There's no real reason for him to stay on."

"There's not much reason left for me then either by that logic," Ed pointed out.

Winry looked into those golden eyes, trying to read just what he meant. She wasn't sure she dared to hope. "Does that mean you're thinking about retiring too?"

Ed kissed her gently, and pulled her closer. "Not tomorrow, but definitely soon. There's one more thing I want to do, but I don't expect it to take too long."

* * *

"This may sound terrible," Ethan chuckled through a gasp, "But I think this is even better than our wedding night." Lying in bed, at home with his wife, for the first time in far too long, was definitely the best possible place to be.

Lia giggled and snuggled closer into his side. "We both know what we're doing," she pointed out, kissing his neck. Her long, loose golden hair pooled around her, draping across his chest as she propped herself up on one elbow so they were face to face. "And I like making up for lost time," she teased, the warm joy in her voice echoed brightly in her eyes and dazzling smile.

"Well I'm not complaining," Ethan agreed, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her. Coming home was like returning from a wasteland to find that the waters of home were even sweeter than he remembered. It had been barely within the limits of his self-control to not vanish into the bedroom as soon as possible just to spend time with the woman who occupied every spare moment of his thoughts. The reality was intoxicating. "I hope I'm not too out of practice."

"It's better that you are," Lia teased. "Or I'd be worried, or jealous."

"Or furious," Ethan kissed her. "How could I ever even think of looking at another woman, when the object of my affections and childhood obsession holds my heart?"

"Your sweet talk has improved," Lia returned the kiss. "Not just in your letters."

"How else could I express how special you are?" Ethan asked. His heart-rate was slowing, and the frantic desire that had driven him earlier was ebbing away at last. "Especially when I wasn't here?"

"It is much more immediate in person," Lia acknowledged. "I just hope the sound-proofing you did in here worked."

Ethan had used alchemy to improve the walls in their room within a week of their marriage; as soon as he discovered that there was just no way to be silently intimate. It was much less embarrassing that way! His parents and Tore had never complained of overhearing them. Tonight, however, he had done a little more as a precaution against the three nephews camped out in the living room, barely a door away. "If Coran says something in the morning, we'll know we failed."

Lia's cheeks flushed pink. "How embarrassing."

"Nah," Ethan chuckled. "I could hear Mom and Dad sometimes when I was his age. It's just something you get used to. Besides, Cassie and Aldon managed to have five of them somehow," he grinned wickedly. "You think Coran and Reichart at least don't know what their parents get up to?"

"That doesn't mean I want the whole world to know what _we're _up to," Lia replied pointedly.

"Like they don't already?" Ethan teased. "We're married."

"The military has made you bolder," Lia remarked, resting her head against his chest, chin tilted so she could make eye contacted.

"No, you did that," Ethan disagreed, taking advantage of the perfect angle to steal another kiss. "You and two years of being denied your presence. The military just means I spent too much time around other guys. I definitely prefer the domestic life." Crude guys hanging out just didn't compare to Lia. He cupped her chin in his hand and leaned in for a much longer, deeper, kiss.

Lia returned it willingly. "Then I look forward," she murmured, "to re-domesticating you."

* * *

_Author's note:_ Finis! Been a while since I said that. ;) The war is over, Amestris is safe from Drachma, but not without some heart-wrenching losses. Now it's time for folks to rebuild and move on with their lives. New story beginning next week!


End file.
